Human Touch
by Lirillith
Summary: Four years after Meteor, Tifa finds time helps in forgiving old enemies and forming new connections. Rude x Tifa
1. Meeting

Author's note: Regarding money, one gil equates to approximately one American dollar in my version of things. And while I hate to break up Cloud and Tifa, it needs to be done for the plot. Story takes place about four years after the game's end, and although I know it's spelled "Lockheart" in the game manual, it just doesn't look right to me, so once again I insist on my own spelling. This one's dedicated to DJ Akane – couldn't have written it without her. 

**Human Touch**

Prologue

  


_He was off at another race when I decided. Things were a lot better when I travelled with him, but now I had the bar, and I couldn't just leave it. We were settling into a routine of sorts. He'd come home, and we'd be happy and loving for a while, and then I'd start with the half-joking jealousy, and then he'd start firing back at me, and then we'd get into a loud fight, and then we'd make up tearfully, and then things would be okay for a while, though not as loving as when he first came back. And then he'd enter the next race. We never mentioned Aerith._

_But she was in all the fights, poor thing, even if we never named her. She wouldn't have wanted that, I'm sure. I couldn't help it. I was convinced he didn't love me, not really. That he loved me only because there was no one else handy. That I was the runner-up, that if Aerith had lived I wouldn't have him now. And I'd never, ever mentioned it, because I didn't want to seem clingy, didn't want him to know how insecure I felt, but mostly because I wanted him to decide on his own to tell me how much I meant to him. And he never did. Oh, he'd say "I love you," and I guess he meant it, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted him to assure me that he'd have chosen me anyway. And I wanted him to_ know _he had to, without my interference._

_And now he was gone, and rather than looking forward to his return, or missing him, or just feeling bored and flat because life was more interesting with him around, I was thinking about fights. I was hoping we might be able to avoid them. I was wondering how long it'd be before one of us snapped "At least_ I _can be bothered to take out the garbage," or "Well it's good you two are getting along so well." So I knew what I had to do._

_"Hey," he called out, as he stepped inside, and I got up to help him with his bags, keeping my head down so he wouldn't see that my eyes were red._

_"Cloud, we need to talk," I said, my voice quavering a little. I looked up, and I saw from his face that he already knew what I'd say._

_"Oh," was all he said._

_I somehow got through the speech, all "It's not that I don't care about you, I'll always care about you," and "It's just not working out," and "I think it's better for both of us," and his face didn't really change. He looked kind of sad, but not surprised. "I can go stay with Brenna if you want," I said, and he shook his head._

_"I'll go stay at the ranch. I'm already packed, and it shouldn't take long to get there. Sunset made it to S Class," he added._

_"That's good," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic and faltering. Tears were welling up in my eyes. At least I'd made it through the speech._

_"Yeah," he agreed, very softly, then rubbed his face wearily. "Listen, you can keep the house until you decide what you're doing next. I guess we'll need to work all that out later."_

_"Yeah. I guess so. I'm not sure what I'm going to do."_

_I was lying. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to sell the bar and move, probably to Junon; it was near the sea, and I'd decided that was important to me. I wanted to lose myself in a crowd, find a job where someone else signed my paychecks. I didn't like being in charge, because I was convinced I would screw up, and badly, at the first opportunity. I also didn't like being around people who knew we'd broken up. I guess I was depressed, but at the time, it just seemed rational. It was around then that I stopped returning everyone's calls. I let Yuffie know what happened, figuring that I could be sure it would get around, that way, and then I called it quits. More than a year passed after the breakup before I saw anyone I'd known from the fight._

Chapter One

  


It was one of the busiest nights we'd had in a while, and Maya was the only other waitress, so I might as well just say we were short-staffed. I was moving toward the other side of the room with a tray full of empty glasses when I felt a light tap on my arm. I paused, and then I heard him. 

"Hey. Lockhart." The voice came from around my elbow, and I didn't recognize it, but that doesn't mean much. I usually make more of an impression on the customers than they make on me, and tonight was especially busy. I turned, carefully, and saw a fully-bald head. He leaned back until I could see his face, what wasn't covered by the sunglasses. Rude. I could have guessed him by reputation, even if I hadn't once gotten close enough to steal a ring out of his pocket. 

"Hey, Rude," I greeted him with as much energy as I could muster. It seemed like a very _long_ night, too. "What are you doing here?" 

"Ordering a beer. Where'd the other waitress go?" 

"I have no idea. I'll go get it for you." 

He tilted his head by way of acknowledgment, though I suppose he figures he's too cool to completely nod, and I made my way between tables and then back to deliver it to him. "Is Maya around?" I asked Tir, the bartender. 

"I don't know. I haven't seen her... in a while, actually. You might check the bathrooms?" 

I went to do just that, and found her hiding in the hall near them. "Is he gone yet?" she asked me immediately. 

"Who?" 

"The Turk!" she squealed, irritable, peering over my shoulder for him and then ducking back into the shadows. How did she know what a Turk was? She couldn't point out Wutai on a map. 

"Rude?" Dumb question – as if she'd know him – but I couldn't help it. What was so scary about him? Reno always seemed likely to explode at any moment, even when he was calm and sitting still. Elena, from my limited acquaintance with her, appeared to be crazy. Tseng had given off menace through his pores, though that was hardly an issue now. Rude was dangerous, of course, but he was the most normal-seeming Turk. Maybe Reno was around somewhere and he'd scared her. "The bald one in the suit?" 

"Yes! He scares the crap out of me. Can't we get rid of him?" she whined. I searched her face – she did at least look frightened, and I doubted she was a very convincing actress. Just stupid, not, in this instance, lazy. 

"We're sort of between bouncers, remember? And he's not causing any trouble." If anything, he was preventing it. No one would want to risk having him getting involved in a fight. 

"What, are you, like, friends with him?" 

_I know we've got a weird relationship,_ Reno had said, sounding very tired. "Not exactly, but I know him. He doesn't bite." 

"Well, I've already fucked up my tip with him—" 

"I brought him a beer, so I guess I'm his waitress now. You can have the soldiers over in the corner." They kept trying to handle me, which I didn't appreciate; guys like that never tip you as well as you deserve for putting up with them, and if Maya was too much of a wimp to give the best-behaved Turk a beer, she could cope with them instead. 

"Okay, that's fine by me. Thanks _so_ much, Tifa," she burbled, and ran off. 

He didn't talk much all evening, though he put away an amazing quantity of beer and I never once saw him approach the restrooms. He's probably too cool for that, too. He also stuck to beer, which was a bit of a surprise – I'd have guessed he'd prefer something manly and threatening-sounding, or just straight alcohol. That'd be likeliest. He'd have a preference, and probably strong opinions about including ice, except that he evidently didn't. "You own this place?" he asked once, so I answered no, and then he stayed quiet for quite a while. A few drinks later, he asked "When's your shift end?" 

"I close tonight," I said, half-apologetically. 

"You always close?" 

"No, I work earlier tomorrow." The early shifts aren't too bad, from a tips standpoint. The way things are now, plenty of people start their drinking early in the day. 

"Hn," he said, absolutely free of inflection, and I gave him a napkin to justify having stood there for so long and headed over for another table. 

"Been working here long?" he asked when I came back with his new beer. 

"I've been here a little over a month," I answered, distractedly, trying to locate Maya. One of her tables had asked me for refills on my way over. There was a big crowd at the corner of the bar, which might have been blocking her from view. 

"Must've just missed you." 

"You're a regular here?" I asked. "I'd never seen you." There she was, laughing with the soldiers. 

"Sort of." He shrugged. "I won't keep you." 

"I'm sorry, it's just... busy tonight," I said, wondering why I kept apologizing. To other customers, sure, it made sense, but he knew me in a way, and acquaintances usually forgive you for bad service. They may not tip very well, but when that's the case, they wouldn't have anyway. 

"I could tell. Take your time." 

He left around midnight – closing time is three a.m. here – and left me a fifty-gil tip. Maya took off with one of the soldiers, leaving me and Tir to close. 


	2. Not a Date

A/N for this chapter: Woohoo! A lot more reviews than I expected for the prologue and first chapter. I've never written a fic like this (meaning, well, long) before, so let me know how I'm doing. 

Chapter Two

  


The next day, Rude showed up around five. I got off at eight, and I joined him at his table with the free drink I was entitled to, a frozen margarita – it was unseasonably warm for November, so it wasn't as weird a choice as it might sound. I saw Maya and Kiri standing close together, talking rapidly and casting glances at me, which was mildly amusing. Yes, Maya, I associate with gangsters. Or whatever she thinks he is. 

"How's Strife doing?" he asked, once I'd settled myself and my drink across from him. 

"I guess he's fine. Last I heard he was living at the ranch, still racing chocobos, but that was a year or so ago." It was easier not to keep in touch. 

"Cut him loose, then?" 

"Something like that." I remembered the look on his face when I said we needed to talk. I remembered almost changing my mind, but it was already too late. 

"You're better off without him." 

"You think?" I asked, lightly. 

"Yeah. Don't you?" 

"Nnn," I replied, as noncommittally as I could, and poked at the lime wedge with my straw. "Maybe. He was rich, you know," I added, trying for the light tone again. 

"Was. Signed the ranch over to Valentine." 

"Huh?!" 

"That's what Elena said too," he replied, sounding amused by my shock. 

"That's a really bizarre decision, and how do you know that anyway?" Like I even needed to ask. 

"We still have connections," he said, sounding mildly wounded. 

"So what's he doing now?" 

"College in Midgar. Grades are good. We're still looking into his roommate." I almost expected him to add "sir" at the end, he sounded so much like he was making a report. 

"Do you do this for all of us?" I asked, a bit irritably. 

"Just the dangerous ones." 

"So I'm out? Or are you stalking me?" 

He grinned, in a way I could only describe as "wolfish." Or "creepy." But at least it proved both sides of his mouth worked. "Are you dangerous?" he asked. 

"Try me," I replied, grinning back. 

"Wanna spar?" 

"Nah, we can't afford to break any furniture right now and upset the customers. Maybe some other time." 

There was a long pause. I stirred the margarita. He drained his beer. "Why're you talking to me, anyway?" he asked. 

I shrugged. The drink was starting to work on me, a little, possibly because I hadn't really had lunch, and I didn't want to talk too unguardedly to him. "Why not? I at least know you, sort of, and it's better than going back home right after work." Empty apartment, just me and the cat and a casserole in the oven that I'd be eating all week. I still haven't made friends here, and I don't want to pop back into my old friends' lives after all this time. They're busy with their own problems, some more than others. They don't need to deal with a lonely barmaid in Junon who brought her troubles on herself. 

"You hated us, though." No hurt in his tone, just a statement of fact. 

"Well, we weren't a whole lot better, were we? Lots of innocent people got killed on both sides. It'd be hypocritical to act like I'm more moral than you. Not that I'm less." 

He nodded silently – I thought he looked gloomy, but maybe I was imagining it. "Want me to refill your beer?" I asked him. 

"Nah. Had enough for today." 

"You went through a shitload of it last night, pardon my language—" 

He gave a short bark of laughter at that. "Lockhart, Reno's been my partner for years. You're not gonna offend me." 

"Reno's like that too?" 

"When he was younger. Thought it made him sound tough. He still gets that way sometimes when he's pissed. Whaddaya mean 'too'?" 

"Cid. Highwind?" He nodded at the surname. I began to realize the man probably worked only with those. Yet they'd know my blood type. If they thought I was dangerous, anyway. "Well, my point was you were putting it away like it was water, and you weren't drunk then. Hell, you're not drunk now. What were you doing, pouring it on the floor?" 

He shook his head. When I squinted at his face I realized one corner of his mouth had quirked up very slightly. He was smiling? Not doing that weird threatening grin at me, but smiling. How bizarre. "Kept you comin' by, right?" 

"Just to make work for me. Lovely," I sighed, pretending to be disgusted. 

He shook his head again, looked as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it and stood up. I did the same; no point to sticking around to hang out with Maya and the regulars. "C'mon, I'll buy you dinner," he offered. 

Well, better than sitting around at home, right? I was never going to get over Cloud if I never went out except for work. So I smiled and said "Sure." 

I let him help me on with my jacket, and he even opened the door for me. That was nice, but kind of surprising. I gave Maya a cheery wave on my way out the door. She looked horrified. Once we were out on the street, I began to wonder what I'd gotten into, though. After all, they _had_ been our enemies. Sort of. And if it were his job to kill me, for whatever reason, he'd try, which could be a problem since I no longer travel with a fighter's glove or materia. But the door-opening and jacket-holding suggested this might just be personal, and not potentially fatal. _I probably should've finished thinking about this before I walked out with him,_ I thought. I didn't voice any of it; I just asked, "Where are we going?" 

"Melville's. Best seafood in town." 

"Oh. Is this supposed to be business, or something like a date?" 

"You want it to be?" 

"Will you stop answering questions like that!" 

He gave another bark of laughter. "Only did it a time or two. And that was a real answer." I glared at him, and he heaved a mighty sigh and elaborated. "If you want, it's a date." 

"I hardly know you and you kept tryin' to kill me there for a while," I protested, hearing the Nibelheim twang creeping back into my voice. And a pouty, flirty tone, for some reason. That was weird. Was I on autopilot? Why couldn't I have engaged this back when I was trying so hard to get Cloud's attention? "I don't know if I trust you not to poison my food." 

"Hey, you have an accent! That's.... cute." 

"Hey, you have verbal inflections! That's cute too," I said, grinning up at him. I'd managed to shake the accent. Good. 

"Smart-mouthed broad," he grumbled, but his mouth had tilted again and I thought I saw some crinkling at the corners of his eyes. I felt my own grin broadening. 

"And you're talking!" 

"I'd think you'd have a better alcohol tolerance, long as you've worked in bars." 

"Yeah, you make so much money drinkin' up the merchandise. I'm not drunk, I'm just relaxed. And what about you?" 

"See, I'm planning to kill you at the end of the evening, so it doesn't matter if you've heard me speak." 

"Fine, then you can pay for dinner. But it's still not a date." I was having a hard time imagining Rude trying to feel me up, honestly. But I also couldn't imagine him trying to kill me, right now. He'd never been this chatty any of the other times we'd fought. 

"Fine by me. Here we are." 

"This is the best seafood in town?" It looked like a cheap diner. 

"Yep." 

He held the door open again, and pulled out the chair for me when I sat down. It looked like a cheap diner inside, too, but they had lobster and crab on the menu. "You're really paying?" I asked, and then I ordered the lobster tail – cheaper than it would be further inland, but still beyond my usual means. He didn't even twitch. 

"Talk about yourself," he said peremptorily, once the waiter had taken our menus. 

"Smooth. Don't you people already know my shoe size and my hobbies and what brand of milk I buy?" 

"Not the milk. The supermarket clerk hasn't cracked yet." 

"Yeah, I thought she looked tough," I agreed. "What's to say?" 

"You've been in Junon longer than a month." It wasn't a question, though he quirked an eyebrow (I could see it over the sunglasses) in an attempt to make it look like one. 

"Yeah. I had a bar in Kalm, you have to know that, but it wasn't doing too well. So I sold it to pay off the loan Cloud had given me, and moved here. Just wanted to disappear in a crowd." And get away from the house I'd shared with Cloud, places where we had memories. The house was still his, but he told me to put it on the market anyway. "I worked at a bakery for six months before this," I added, like he didn't already know that, along with the addresses and usual orders of the regular customers. 

"You like this job better?" 

"You sound like you're interviewing me. It's not bad. I could live without the soldiers. What are the Turks doing here?" For that matter, what did the Turks _ever_ do? I'd never been completely clear on that. They fought us, of course, but they must have had some other purpose once. 

"You're assuming we stuck together." 

"You always did, didn't you?" 

He tilted his head again. Maybe he has some weird spine injury and _can't_ nod. "Lot of rival factions here. Free agents can make a lot of money." 

"So you're not just working with one group?" 

"I don't talk business in public." 

"Oh," I replied, stung and feeling a bit stupid – it wasn't like we were friends, after all. Now that I thought about it, I realized he hadn't actually said anything concrete. 

"No offense." 

"Yeah. I guess it would be a... problem." 

And that effectively killed conversation till they brought us the rolls. We each took one, buttered them in silence and almost in unison. He tore off a bite with his teeth, and around a full mouth, said "The Marcus family thinks we're loyal to them, but we also... run errands for the San Miguels." 

"Oh," I said again, very quietly, the roll and knife suspended where they'd been when he first spoke. He chewed, swallowed, and grinned at me, that same creepy one from earlier. I guess that answers one question I'd wondered about – he does eat. 

* * *

Inspired, I guess, by that show of trust, and by the desire to keep that smile off his face, I kept up a more normal conversation for the rest of the evening. I'd talk about things – the few TV shows we still get, news from elsewhere, sports – and he'd grunt a few syllables in reply. I'd had other dates like that. Even if this one wasn't a date. 

"Who was the waitress who wouldn't bring me drinks?" he asked, the longest sentence he'd spoken since he admitted who they worked for. 

"Maya. She has the brains of a trout. You know how I was saying I need to make friends around here? I thought, co-workers, maybe I can be friends with them. Maya has no use for anyone without a penis." 

"I always thought you were so innocent," he mused, prodding the last of his baked potato with a fork. 

"What, I can't say penis? It's the truth." 

"So you don't like her." 

"Not really." 

"Missing the war?" 

"You'd call it a war?" At that, he just nodded. I guess they had – I guess that's how they justified dropping the plate, at least to themselves, though I don't the President had felt any need to justify anything. "I dunno. Parts of it, maybe." I missed Aerith. I missed having a female friend around, someone I could really talk to, someone who never cast those glances at me while talking to someone else with her lip curling in that way. I remembered her laughing, telling me not to worry so much, that _if_ he chose her over me it was just that I was too good for him. And I missed Cloud, the Cloud I didn't fight with all the time. The Cloud from our early days as a couple. We'd double up on Jane, the gold chocobo who was in no shape to race, on our way to and from the Gold Saucer, sleep under the stars. It was like when we were traveling with the whole group, only better, because we weren't being hunted and we got to share a sleeping bag. "And where'd you get that?" 

"Just a hunch. Which parts?" 

"I miss having the whole group together, but that's nostalgia talking, because it wasn't just non-stop bliss. On the Highwind the bathrooms always smelled like vomit because of Yuffie's motion sickness. Barret and Cait hated each other, Nanaki always had to rephrase things in simpler words for the rest of us, and Vincent would lurk in dark corners being spooky. Kind of reminds me of you." 

"Only with a lot more hair." 

I was overtaken by a fit of coughing, but his mouth had canted into that semi-smile again, so I quit. "Well, yeah," I agreed, unable to keep myself from grinning. The other half of his mouth tilted upward a bit, too. 

"You know he was a Turk, right?" 

"I think he said something about it. It's been a while." Actually, I wasn't at all sure he'd said anything about it, but it stood to reason. He seemed to just pose automatically whenever he wasn't doing something, and I'd never seen him eat. 

"Yeah." 

"Hey, you thought I was innocent? Wasn't I a terrorist?" I asked, remembering the comment from earlier. 

"I meant about... uh." 

His already-dark face looked a bit darker and noticeably more red than it used to be. "Are you blushing?" I demanded, leaning forward to look at him. 

"No," he said firmly, and got up and walked away from the table. I blinked, thinking he was about to walk off and leave me with the bill, and then I realized he'd headed for the men's room. 

* * *

He tipped generously at the restaurant too, though not as much as he'd tipped me. I suppose it still might have been to impress me, but if he was trying to buy my good opinion, at least he was thorough about it. He did the chivalry thing again when we were departing, holding jackets and opening doors, then walked me home. 

He didn't touch me on the way, though, not even in the elevator, which is when I expected him to put an arm around me or something as a move towards a goodnight kiss. I considered the option that he'd been pumping me for information and wasn't really interested in me, but then I remembered the arguable blushing and decided he was just being gentlemanly. I also remembered when we were heading west from Gongaga, Aerith sing-songing "Rude's got a cru-ush!" until I had to elbow her in the stomach. I sort of thought she'd been making it up – _I_ hadn't heard him say anything about it – but maybe not. 

I leaned against my door, wishing I'd devoted less time to pondering and more to deciding what to say. "Okay, Rude? Did _you_ want it to be a date?" 

He didn't say anything. He pushed his sunglasses up on his nose, he cleared his throat, he adjusted his tie. "Rude?" I prompted. 

"......wouldn't have minded," he finally admitted, very quietly. 

"Okay, one other question. What color are my eyes?" You can't tell where he's looking, with those glasses. 

He cleared his throat again. "...Sort of like red wine in a glass, when there's just candles." 

I blinked. Not _poetic_, exactly, but a lot better than "brown," which is the word I would have used. "Um, doesn't... don't the shades sort of change the color a bit?" 

"You knocked 'em off me once." 

_A fight, probably the first time I fought him. I'd buried a fist in his stomach and then landed another punch on his jaw, knocking the sunglasses off. Reno had then landed me a blow on the ribs and they'd run – or "retreated," I guess, since they were too cool to actually run._ "I think I remember that," I agreed, then what he'd said registered. "You looked at my eyes _then_?" He didn't answer. I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, thinking about it. "Okay," I said. "Maybe we can go out sometime, then. And I'll pay." 

"No you won't," he started to answer, but then I leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and he shut up. 

I unlocked the door, stepped inside and smiled at him from the doorway. "Night," I said, and he opened his mouth but didn't say anything, and then he sort of drifted backwards a few steps and smiled – with his whole mouth, not just that one side of it, and without looking evil. Then he waved at me a little and headed down the hall. He really had been blushing in the restaurant, I realized, because he'd done it again right when I kissed him. 


	3. Overnight

Chapter Three

  


I stepped inside. I rubbed my cat's stomach as he threw himself down on my feet and writhed around begging for attention. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my hose and padded into the kitchen to retrieve the casserole. And I thought. This was one of those times that made me wish fiercely for Aerith. If she were here, I'd tell her everything that had just happened, and she'd grin and give me advice and then she'd tease me until I pretended to smother myself with a couch cushion – as had happened, once, in Costa del Sol, though we'd been talking about Cloud then. Now I _really_ needed her. Maybe she could have told me what I'd been thinking, because I didn't know. 

I'd kind of suspected the Turks weren't up to much good. They seldom were, really, according to Cloud. I hadn't actually thought that he was working with the gangs, though. They'd started to form, in Junon and a few other places that were hard-hit. Junon – Upper Junon, anyway – was a Shinra town. Almost everyone here worked for the company; those who didn't made their living supplying things to those who did. And now they were all out of luck. 

Shinra had fallen, and taken the world's economy with it. Not only had it been the world's largest employer, and government, but most of industry relied on it somehow, if only for lighting. And refrigeration; food storage was a massive problem in most of the world now. The Lifestream had all rushed to Midgar and other points where it was needed, and away from the mako wells. Very few places had our objections to running mako power, but now they couldn't. And most of the processing had taken place in Midgar. Some areas managed to keep mako power – the Gold Saucer, for one – and others, like Wutai (which got all its electricity from wind power) or Cosmo Canyon, hadn't been affected, but most had to scramble for a solution or do without. 

Junon was doing all right in that regard. They had backup generators using coal or petroleum or something. Their electricity had been out for less than a day, or so I'd heard. We had TV here, though the broadcasting was substantially reduced, and electric lights and appliances, though the bills were highway robbery. But almost everyone here had worked for Shinra, and obviously they didn't any longer. There wasn't much money to go around. I sometimes worried that the power company (currently controlled by the Marcuses, or so I'd heard) would go under. Of course the Marcuses would come out of it wealthy. 

A few powerful families controlled the town now, along with the remnants of the Shinra military. I knew most of the best soldiers had been killed, but even the dregs of the military can kill a lot of civilians, when they have guns and the civilians don't. They didn't really affect my life directly, but I think they kept all the services running and I knew the bar paid the San Miguels protection money. If Rude had been telling the truth, the Turks worked for two of the dominant families. I wondered if they were playing both sides against the middle, or just keeping their hands in with more than one side, a way of avoiding taking sides. And why hadn't they allied with the military instead? 

I was not going to ask him, I decided, as I fed the cat. I didn't want to know. I didn't especially care about the corruption; at least, unlike Shinra, their power was limited. No one family had a monopoly, and they kept things running. But I didn't want to be involved in it, either. I just wanted to keep my head down and get by, and dating him probably wouldn't help with that. But while I was washing my face, I noticed that my eyes were a bit red when the light hit them a certain way. I found myself smiling at the mirror. I crawled into bed, shut off the lamp, curled up so the cat could make his space behind my knees. I was too tired to think about it any longer. 

* * *

Two days passed, and then the weather turned _cold._ I'd grown up in the mountains, but I hated winter, and so I bundled up, wearing heavy tights under my jeans and thermal undershirts under my bulky sweaters. My tips dropped. Maya's mood improved greatly, whether because I was covered up, because she was making more money than I was, or just because of her soldier, I wasn't sure. I saw Rude once, but he just sat at the bar for one drink, which looked like something on the rocks and which certainly wasn't his usual beer. We nodded a greeting, but that was all. 

About a week later, he was back at the table where I'd first waited on him, on one of the nights I closed. "Did you find out my work schedule, too?" I asked, not in the best of moods. 

"No, just guessed. You alternate late and early days, don't you?" 

"Yeah." 

"Not stalking you," he said, and there was a hint of humor in his voice. 

"If you say so," I replied, mollified, and then Tir yelled for me and I had to take the order and hurry over to the bar. Maya had disappeared and I needed to cover a table or two. 

She reappeared after a while, but Tir had already called Sally in to finish her shift, and he fired Maya. I noticed her glaring at me, as if I'd had something to do with it. I'd be glad to have her gone later, but at the moment it was more a hassle than anything. I apologized when I brought Rude his beer. 

"It happens. Is it that fish-brained girl?" 

"Yeah. Tir finally had enough, I guess. So service will be a little slow tonight." 

"I'll make this one last," he said. 

"You never drink anything harder. Why is that?" 

He shrugged. "Sometimes I do. Usually on business. Just like the taste of beer." 

"Yeah. Just wondered. Guess I need to go, again." 

Sally took her time in arriving – the buses had been held up by an accident. I didn't really have any extra time to talk to him, which was just as well. It had occurred to me that he'd developed this attraction while he was supposed to be trying to arrest or kill me, which added a creepy element to it all, and I probably shouldn't encourage him. I tried not to remember that big silly grin he'd gotten when I kissed him goodnight. He was a dangerous former Shinra employee, after all. Thinking he was sweet was just stupid. 

He hung around till closing time, then left along with the last few. While I was sweeping up, I noticed a human shape through the fogged window at the front and stepped outside. He was there, in a long black duster and, still, his shades. "Have you been here the whole time?" I asked, and he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "You'll freeze to death! They say people lose the most heat through their heads. Come inside," I said, and he followed me in, leaned against a wall near the front while we finished up. He helped me on with my coat, again; Tir cast me an inquiring glance, and I smiled reassuringly. I was pretty sure I could beat him in a fight, or at least hurt him enough to give me time to run, if I needed to. Tir nodded, though he still looked doubtful, and we split up at the corner. 

"Lockhart. Need to tell you something." 

"Okay." There was a long pause. "Go on." It was too dark to make out his eyes even from the side. Half the streetlights are burned out along this route. If he was going to kill me, this was his chance. 

"We don't have you under surveillance. Or Strife, for that matter." 

"None of us?" 

"Wallace, Highwind, and the princess." 

"Yuffie? What on earth kind of danger could she be? And who'd she be dangerous to?" 

"'Dyou remember hearing about the war with Wutai? Or the Great War? Or the Nine Years War, the Winter's War?" he asked, challengingly. 

"Well, the war with Wutai, but I was little then. We never got to it in school. And I remember studying the Great War, a little." I never even finished high school. 

"Wutai started all of them, usually by invading somewhere. And those are just the past couple centuries. They were an empire, long time ago, and they never forgot." 

"Yeah, that's what the textbooks said. The textbooks that were written by Shinra." 

He snorted. "I took those classes in college, too, Lockhart. You learn more there, and a lot of it doesn't flatter Shinra. The head of the history department fought in the Great War. He was a fossil, but you couldn't fool him about who started what. And the university was about the only place in Midgar that had an independent press. Lot of opposition on campus. My girlfriend broke up with me when she found out I'd accepted the Turks' offer." 

"Well, that was kind of shitty of her." 

He shrugged. "She would have eventually anyway. Point is, just 'cause you hate Shinra and Shinra won the war doesn't mean Wutai never did anything wrong. You can't just blindly side with with the underdog." 

"I didn't say I was. I just don't see how Yuffie has any real power on her own. Or interest in doing anything with it if she had it." Anything other than bankrupting the country to buy all the world's materia. Or sending the army out to confiscate it. 

"Not yet. Godo's got a heart condition and she's his only kid." 

"Oh." I looked down at my feet. "But what about the danger? Shinra doesn't exist anymore." 

"Exactly. Pretty easy to take over the world when there's no one to stop her. Not saying she would, just... keeping an eye on her." 

The Turks save civilization? I tried not to snicker at the image, changed the subject. "So if you weren't, uh, surveilling Cloud..." 

"The thing about the ranch was in the papers around there, and we get those delivered. Elena had a friend in the admissions office who broke a few rules to tell us about the college thing. He made the dean's list, and the names from that were published in the paper too." 

"Oh. And the stuff about me?" We were on the corner by my apartment. I turned right, to take the long way around the block. 

"Guessing." 

"Well, good." I pulled my stocking cap down over my ears. "How'd you know all that about history?" 

"Majored in it." 

"_You?_" 

"What? I liked it." 

"Huh. I just never thought of the Turks requiring a college degree. Or if they did, it'd be in, I dunno, something scary and number-intensive." 

"They liked liberal arts. Research skills. That's how I heard about you." 

"It was?" Oh, Rude, not _another_ revelation that'd creep me out once I gave it some thought. 

"Yeah. Got a surveillance camera image from the district office robbery, before you started blowing people up. Had to identify you and do a profile. You, uh, you kind of impressed me." He mumbled the last sentene, looking down at his feet. 

"Rude, I don't even know your first name," I said, a bit helplessly. I felt on very uneven footing with him. 

"Nicholas." 

"That's a nice name." 

"Not like the one I actually use, huh?" 

"I didn't _say_ that," I protested. 

He smiled at me. He actually had a nice smile when he wasn't trying to look creepy. "I know. Why're we taking the long way around?" 

"I didn't know you'd recognize the route. I wanted to hear what else you had to say." 

"Well... you have." 

That shut me up for a little while. We were almost there again. I jammed my hands harder in my pockets. "If it's going to be this cold I wish it'd snow." 

"Don't like the cold?" he asked, opening the door for me – the apartment's not so nice that we have a doorman. 

"Hate it. When I was little I always wanted to move to a warm place." 

"Should have picked Costa when you moved." 

"The cost of living's so high there. I didn't have that much in savings, and you can only sell off so many materia before you run out." And Junon suited my mood. Everyone in Costa was tan and happy. 

".....glad you didn't." He was so quiet I barely heard him, and wasn't totally sure that was what he'd said, but I found myself smiling into my scarf for the entire elevator ride. 

"You want to come inside and warm up?" I asked as I stepped out of the elevator, then winced, realizing how suggestive that could sound. "Uh, I mean, like coffee." 

"Sure," he agreed, and followed me out and down the hall, waited while I unlocked the door. "I didn't think you meant... oh hey!" 

My cat had come bounding up, mewing, while I was still taking off my hat and coat, and Rude crouched down to pet him. The cat arched his back into the stroking but proceeded under his hand, walking over to me to twine around my ankles. I bent down to pick him up, scratching him behind the ears. "Yeah, I know, I was out late rather than sitting around admiring you... yes, I'm sorry..." 

Rude was grinning. He reached out tentatively, and I smiled encouragement at him. The cat rested his head on my arm as Rude scratched behind his ears. "He likes you," I said, with a big, stupid grin on my face. My cat had at one point tried to befriend a plumber as he worked under the sink; the nice surprise about this was that Rude liked the cat. 

"I always liked animals," he said, and grinned as the cat's purring became audible. "What's his name?" 

"He kind of doesn't have one. I call him Cat." 

"Well, it fits," he agreed, and I laughed. "It's not like he'd come when you called anyway, right?" 

"Exactly," I said, and shifted the cat's weight in my arms. He didn't like that much, though, and he stretched irritably toward the ground until I let him jump. He batted his tail against my legs, then brushed against Rude's before stalking off with his tail in the air. 

"You're gonna have white cat hair all over you," I told him, grinning a bit. They'd never looked rumpled even when we beat them in a fight, but my kitten could best the suit. 

"It'll come off," he said placidly, as he peeled off his overcoat. 

"Oh yeah, hot drinks. You want coffee, hot chocolate, or some tea?" 

"Whatever's least trouble," he replied, hanging up his coat. 

I headed into the tiny kitchen, began pulling ingredients out of the cabinets. "Hot chocolate okay?" I asked, and peered around the corner when I got no answer. He was sitting on the couch, and my cat had jumped up on his lap. "Hot chocolate?" I repeated. 

"Oh. Yeah, sounds good," he agreed. I went back into the kitchen, mixed the sugar and cocoa and milk and set them on the stove to heat. I stirred until the scrape of spoon on saucepan got too grating, then went around the corner again to look at them. In the living room, Rude was bemusedly staring at a curled-up ball of white fluff. 

"He started doing this kneading thing on my leg, then he circled around and curled up. I think he's asleep," he reported in slightly hushed tones. 

"Probably. Cats are good at that," I said, still smiling. 

"I never had one," he said. "Hey, if you ever get sick of him..." 

"Nah... he's a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but he's _my_ royal pain in the ass, you know?" I went back into the kitchen to stir the hot chocolate. 

"Sort of like having a little furry white Elena," he commented. I started laughing, halfway giddy; maybe I'd been more tense than I thought. When I'd subsided, he continued. "Kidding. She's not that bad. Good kid. Just never finished her training." 

"She missed 'Advanced Lurking' and 'Being Really Quiet'?" I teased. 

"Pretty much. We're all slipping, though," he said. "Black suits instead of navy, things like that." 

"I thought something looked different!" I exclaimed, poking my head around the corner to grin at him. "That explains it." 

"Well, we're not Shinra anymore. Not really entitled to wear the blue." 

"Oh." I hadn't thought it was as much a uniform as that. Or that they took their duties so seriously. 

"Half the time she let orders slip, it was on purpose. So you'd go where we wanted you." I had no idea why he was harping on Elena. Defending the Turks' honor, maybe. Trying to let me know that she wasn't insane or stupid, just crafty. Half the time, anyway. 

"Rude, why are you trying to sell me on her? She always dreamed of being a barmaid when she grew up?" I asked as I poured the drinks into two mugs. 

"No, uh..." he stammered, as I brought the hot chocolate out. His hand brushed mine, maybe by accident, as I handed him his. "I'd like you to meet 'em sometime. And I figure there's no chance you'd ever like Reno, so I'd better work double hard on 'Lena." 

I remembered Wedge, patting his belly fondly and saying "This is all your fault." Jessie hunched over the bomb components, brow furrowed in concentration. Biggs, working his way steadily through a bottle of wine. And all the people I'd known in the Sector, from my regulars at the bar to that nice old lady who loaned me five gil at the market once. I'd never had the chance to pay her back. "I'm inclined not to like Reno, you're right." 

"It was orders," he said hopelessly. 

"Yeah. I know." I looked into the hot chocolate rather than at his face. "And I guess it's no different than what we did, but..." 

"Why don't you hate me for that?" he asked. I was silent for a long time. "_Do_ you hate me for that?" he insisted, worriedly. 

"Well... you weren't there. So I guess I never really blamed you for it like I did him. And myself. All of us, I mean... Shinra was hardly _nice_, but you wouldn't have done something that extreme if not for Avalanche. Right?" 

"No." 

"Yeah," I sighed. "So that's why." 

He patted my shoulder. I looked up at him, and he tried a small smile. "If you don't want, I won't ask you to meet 'em," he offered, sounding helpless, as if he expected me to burst into tears. I'd been halfway there, which just went to show I needed sleep. 

I forced a smile. "That wasn't what I meant. I... well, we haven't really had a date yet, you know. I mean, we should probably at least get one real one under our belts before you start introducing me to your friends." 

"Yet?" He sounded hopeful. The corner of his mouth had quirked up again, I noticed. 

"Well, you know..." 

He took a long drink of the hot chocolate, probably trying to hide the smile, though it was still there when he lowered the mug. He glanced at the clock as he wiped his mouth. "Getting late. I better go." 

"Getting early, you mean. Not much point to going home, is there?" 

"You inviting me to spend the night?" he asked, hopeful. 

"I'll make up the couch for you if you want to stay..." 

"Damn." 

"Rude!" 

"...can't blame a guy for hoping..." 

I just made a sort of hmmph noise and got up to rinse out the cups. 

"I'll stay," he said hastily, as if I were about to withdraw the offer. 

"Don't do me any favors," I huffed at him, but I was already on my way to the linen closet, if only to show him I wasn't mad at him. 

He tried to help me tuck in the sheets, but my cat kept pouncing on the wrinkles, so Rude picked him up to get him out of the way. And stood back to watch me bending over the couch, but I realized I wasn't bothered by that. Evidently I did like the guy, then. 

I did everything I needed to – found a spare toothbrush for him, volunteered to keep the cat in my room (he declined) and went back to my own to change clothes and sleep. Curled up in bed, I waited for my feet to warm up and my brain to stop working. I'd apparently decided to date a Turk without any conscious decision on my part. And that might have been a horrible idea, but I had no one I could ask for a second opinion. He had been awfully cute, though, blushing and opening doors for me. And he wasn't trying to kill me. But I'd never seen his eyes directly. I'd have to ask him about that, later, I thought sleepily, and that's the last coherent thought I remember. 


	4. Breakfast

Author's note: Guys, I'm glad you're enjoying it and all, but can we please not squish their names together for an abbreviation? Please? I'm begging you here. It's nothing personal, I just oppose all name-combining on principle. 

Chapter Four

  


I woke up the next morning being poked in the feet with something sharp. "Ow, quit it," I whined sleepily, and kicked. It did no good, so I opened my eyes and sat up, drawing my feet up. My cat joyously followed them up the bed and pounced on my toes. I scratched him behind the ears. "You're evil, you know that?" I told him. He walked up my legs and butted his head against my chin. "Rude?" I called out, scratching the cat behind the ears. The place didn't feel empty. 

"Yeah?" he called back, from the direction of the kitchen. I smelled bacon, coffee, and burned eggs. 

"Just checking to see if you were there." 

"Cat wake you? I was trying to make him leave you be." 

"It's okay..." I picked him up, which he didn't like much, so I put him back down and went to close the door so I could pull on a bra and jeans under my nightshirt. 

When I emerged, pushing tangled hair off my face, Rude handed me a cup of coffee. "I had no idea you could cook," I commented, settling at the table and watching as he deposited a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of me. Everything looked fine, surprisingly enough. 

"I just learned. Uh, I need to buy you some more eggs." 

"More...?" 

"The first few came out sort of crunchy. So I tried again. Uh, and again." 

That explained the smell. "Maybe you should just buy me another skillet." 

"No, it cleaned up pretty well. I think," he added sheepishly. 

"Who feeds you people?" I asked, grinning as I cut up my eggs. I had a vision of them living among stacks of takeout boxes. 

"Reno. Seriously," he continued, seeing my look. 

"_Reno_?" 

"Didn't think you'd believe it. But yeah." 

I shook my head and started breaking my bacon into little pieces. "Wouldn't have thought you were a history major, either..." 

"Reno was Classics." 

"You're making this up!" I insisted, trying to envision Reno doing whatever classics majors do. Acting in ancient Mideelian tragedy with all the masks? I got a mental image of that, and with it a fit of the giggles. 

"Yeah," he admitted. "Dunno if he actually had any college. He came up the traditional way, beat the boss in a fight. The old boss, before Tseng." 

"Okay, I can buy that. So what about Elena?" 

"Lit major and receptionist. With a lot of pent-up rage. She ran into Reno in a dark alley, thought he was attacking her. Kicked the crap out of him. He managed to lift her wallet and had Tseng call her the next day." 

"Good God." I could kind of see it, actually. "So you were the only one recruited for your education?" 

"Something like that." He scooped his own eggs onto a plate, then sat down across the table from me, smiling. "Eat up." 

"See, thing is, I like my eggs kind of cold." 

"I always knew you were crazy." 

"Everyone says that! I don't get it," I agreed cheerfully. My father would set up a barricade of jam jars between my plate and his at breakfast on Sundays rather than watch me eating congealed yolk. Rude just shrugged and smiled. "Did you cook wearing the sunglasses?" I asked, changing tacks. 

"You've got a nice place here, Lockhart." 

"It looks even better without sunglasses." 

"I'm not taking them off." 

I pouted at him in between bites of egg. He remained deliberately expressionless until I tried the jutting lip, which caused him to crack up. He laughed almost silently, shaking with mirth. I just watched him, fascinated. "I've never seen you laugh like that," I said wonderingly. 

"Never seen anyone make a face like that!" 

"Didn't you ever babysit? Have any little siblings or cousins?" 

He shook his head no, and started straightening out his face. I stuck my lip out and he lost it again. 

"I could do this for hours," I told him. He didn't stop laughing. 

* * *

We didn't actually do that for hours. Eventually, I quit tormenting him with the pout and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. He tried to insist on helping, but I wouldn't let him; I wanted to examine the skillet myself. It was, in fact, spotless. A testament either to the skillet-maker or to Rude's sense of duty, I wasn't sure which. I didn't say anything about that, just watched him with a touch of concern while I scrubbed. He sat at the table, back to me, silent and almost motionless. I guess I should have adapted to it, after Vincent, but I never had, and it was almost eerie after he'd been so normal and friendly during the meal. Finally when the water stopped running, he spoke. 

"You work today?" he asked, quietly, from the table. 

"Nope. My day off. Tomorrow I close again." 

"Wanna find something to do today?" 

I felt the smile break over my face. "Yeah. That'd be good." 

I put the dishes in the draining rack and bustled off to get dressed, then made him hold my cat while I put my hair in a midgar braid. "He always tries to fight with my hair when I do complicated things to it," I explained. 

"Wow," Rude said, evidently almost as mesmerized by the braiding as my cat had ever been. "How do you do that?" 

"Practice, I guess? I dunno. I've been doing this for years. Braiding's kind of... logical, you know? It has to follow a pattern." 

"I started going bald when I was twenty." 

"Did you really? You poor thing. When did you give up and start shaving it?" 

"What makes you think I did?" 

"Well, I, uh..." Most naturally bald men have some hair on the backs of their heads, at least. Right? 

He did that half-smile of his again, letting me off the hook. "When I was twenty-two. Right when I joined the Turks. Image thing." 

Well, he'd volunteered this, so I might as well pursue it. "How old are you now?" 

"Twenty-eight. Birthday's in July." 

"Where were you born?" 

He just looked at me. I tied off the braid and smiled sweetly at him. He sighed. "Eisen. Little town south of Kalm. What else?" 

"What's your family like? Or if you'd like I can just yank out a couple of teeth with my bare hands, it might be easier." 

"Don't like talking about myself. You ready to go?" 

I pulled on my coat, considered the stocking cap and decided against it. It looked warmer out, and I didn't want to ruin my hair. "Yep. I'm not going to quit asking things, though. And you didn't answer that last one." 

"Only child, parents still alive and married. Don't see why it matters..." He grumbled under his breath all the way down the hall to the elevator, then we both had to stop and brush cat hair off of him (the cat had nested in his suit overnight, evidently) before we could call for it. "Cat needs a name," he said firmly, as if it would keep him from shedding. 

"Yeah, probably so. I can't come up with one that fits, though, and I've been trying for nearly a month." 

"I'll ask Reno. He named Cait, for one." I didn't say anything to that, and he tried to look at my face. "If, uh, you don't mind." 

"Well, he _does_ need a name. What were you like in high school?" 

"Tall." 

I was not going to laugh and encourage him. "Rude, dammit!" 

He just gave a long-suffering sigh. We stepped into the elevator, and he waited till the doors closed before he turned to me and took off the sunglasses. I just stared at him for a second. His eyes were a dark brown, deep-set and tilted slightly, and I found myself envying his eyelashes. In other words, he had very nice eyes. 

"Lockhart. Listen. I don't know what this is about. But if you're worried because I know more about you than you do about me... don't be. Your file is all copies of your apartment leases and medical records. And not much of that before you were fifteen and in Midgar. I don't know what you were like in school or how you got along with your mother. You know as much as I do now. Can we call it even?" 

"You know what I did after Sephiroth and Meteor, though. Because I told you, I know that," I added, seeing that he was about to protest. 

"Not much to tell," he said. "Got out of Midgar with the other two. Bought chocobos in Kalm. Ended up here." He put the sunglasses back on, just before the elevator doors opened. "Told you all I can about business. The reputation helped." 

I nodded, reached up to tuck my hair behind my ears, but there were only a few strands loose to tuck. I let my hand drop and brush against his, hoping it seemed accidental. He grabbed it, held it all the way across the lobby, squeezed and let go so he could open the door again. Out on the street, he made no move to take my hand again, but he put his arm around me while we were in line for the movie, and I leaned against him happily the whole time. The movie itself was a date movie; two people with Midgar plate accents, getting in amusing arguments and not realizing until right at the end that they were in love. It was better than some movies like that, at least, and I heard him laughing a few times. 

After it was over, he made for the stores. "Need to buy you a new weapon. Unless you still have the old ones." 

"I might, I don't know." 

"Buying you a new one anyway, just in case." 

"Why?" 

"Don't like your route home. Badly lit, bad part of town. Trust me, I know which parts are bad. Can't walk you home every night." 

"I've never had any trouble," I protested, though it's not like I'd never been frightened on the way home, either. I'm not in fighting shape anymore, and while I really should carry materia, I usually don't. 

"What do you say to a gun?" 

"I don't need a gun! I'll just start wearing a glove, okay? I can't have thrown out the Premium Heart." 

"Getting you a new glove, at least. In case you can't find the others." 

"If you insist..." I said, humoring him. 

"Just worried about you, Lockhart," he said softly, and I ended up smiling. 

"Not that store with all the girls, though, all right?" 

* * *

He dragged me through all the stores looking for one we'd both find acceptable, including the one with all the girls, though I noted happily that he more or less ignored them. I tried to convince him I just wanted a light glove, finally winning when I argued that it was better for the weapon not to look too much like a weapon. Then he got a bit fidgetty about the lack of room for materia, so I tried to distract him by getting him to buy me lunch. I'd almost gotten him to give up on materia slots when a black car rolled up next to us. 

"You didn't come home last night, young man!" a female voice scolded, and both our heads whipped around. It was Elena. 

"...I, uh, well, uh..." He cleared his throat and cast me a beseeching look. 

"He was staying with me," I said, since he hadn't seemed willing to say it. Elena's "oooh" was matched by another from inside the car. So I guess they also had Reno. And a chauffeur, since they sounded like they were both in the back. 

"Yeah, well... you come just for that?" he demanded, a bit defensively. 

"Nope. Tino wants us. You ready to go?" 

"Guess I have to be. Sorry, Lockhart. I guess I'll owe you lunch?" 

"It's okay," I said, hoping I didn't sound disappointed. "See you, um, later." 

He hesitated for a second, then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and got into the car. I heard more hooting from inside, just before the window rolled up. Then it rolled back down again and Elena leaned out. "Hey, Tifa, does Rude have your phone number?" 

"I don't know. Rude?" 

"Don't think so," he said from within, slightly muffled. 

I wrote it down for her on the receipt from the weapons shop. "Why do you need it?" I asked. 

"Just so we can check in next time you keep him out all night. Thanks!" And with that, they pulled out, leaving me to walk home in boots I'd worn for cuteness rather than comfort. Cuteness and altitude. 

* * *

That night, the phone rang, which was a bit unusual on my days off. I thought Tir might have been needing extra help, but it turned out to be Rude. 

"Hey, Lockhart. Sorry to run out on you," he said by way of greeting, just leaving me to figure out it was him. 

"Well, 'it's your job,' right?" I was trying to mimic Reno, but I'd failed. 

"That was a bit different. Still a job I had to do, but... different," he said after a pause. 

"Rude, why are you so reverent about Shinra? Didn't you know what they were like?" 

".....I'm not good with speeches. Especially not over the phone. Not good at anything over the phone." 

"It doesn't have to be a speech..." I told him. My cat climbed onto my lap. 

"It does, but... okay. I don't know how Wallace described the Corel incident, but all our reports said there was a reactor fire and then the town was halfway destroyed by rioting. The troops overreacted in putting down the riots, but they didn't torch the town. The reactor fire was negligence, nothing deliberate. Nibelheim..." 

"I know that wasn't deliberate, Rude. I was there." It was still the indirect result of Shinra's action. "I guess they were actually helping, sending the troops..." Dammit. That's what I get for trying to anticipate his arguments – undercutting my own. They couldn't have known Sephiroth would go insane. 

"Yeah," he said. There was a long, awkward pause. "....And for a lot of us, I mean a lot of people, the whole idea of the Planet being alive was just superstition. So that didn't matter." 

"Yeah..." I said softly. "I might as well admit it. I didn't believe it myself until after I started talking to Aerith. I just joined Avalanche because I hated Shinra." 

"Why?" 

"If your father had been killed right in front of you, if you... if you'd been there, you'd have blamed the whole damn world too," I said, my voice tight with tears. 

"I'm sorry," he said, very quietly. "Really sorry. I didn't know... that." 

"It's— ...I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to get into this. I just wanted to... I don't know." I wanted him to say 'yes, I knew they were evil but they had my family hostage,' or something. I could forgive him for the things he hadn't done, but I was having a hard time with his opinions. 

"Lockhart, are you going to be okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice. 

"You mean, like, long-term?" I said, and sniffled. My cat mewed and curled up tighter. "I'm okay now, I guess, just looking for excuses to get depressed. I guess I should quit that, huh?" 

"Have you been drinking?" 

"No, but that's a good idea." I stroked the curve of the cat's spine. Couldn't just kick him off. 

"Would it help if I told you I knew Shinra wasn't all good?" he said, vaguely tentative. 

"That'd help," I said, fumbling around in the cabinet for a dishcloth on which to blow my nose. Once I get started crying, I just leak. "Didn't you guys do kidnapping?" 

"Not exactly, but it's hard to explain. Strife didn't know anything about us." 

"Yeah," I mumbled. 

"Sorry. It's... complicated." Evidently too much to explain. Did I really want to know every bad thing he'd ever done? 

"What you did?" 

"Yeah. I meant Shinra, but all of it. It's not like the world's better off now." 

"The Planet is." 

"Not the people, though," he insisted. I was reminded of Reeve. 

"Greater good, huh?" I asked, bitterly. Like they knew about the greater good. Or, for that matter, like I did. My cat shifted and then suddenly woke, jumping off my lap and streaking over to the window. 

"Stability and a decent economy. Better than this, I'd say." 

"Yeah, and all the coverups and the so-called rioting and the slums and the rate hikes and—" 

"I didn't say it was perfect," he interrupted. 

"I guess. I don't know. Maybe you're right," I sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position on the chair. "I'm sorry I keep bringing shit up, anyway." It wasn't like I could ever change his mind. But I wanted to. So what did that tell me? 

"You're allowed," he said. "...Is there gonna be a lot more? I'd like some warning." 

"I don't _think_ so..." I said, hoping I could make him laugh and cheer up myself. I don't like these moods; they just happen. It's a lot more fun when I don't get depressive on him. 

It didn't work though. "I still want you to talk to me. If you're upset." 

"I will," I assured him. 

"Good," he said, quietly again. Then there was a pause and a sigh. "Lockhart, I need to go." 

"Okay. I'll see you later, then?" I was not going to be clingy, not this time around. I hoped I sounded at least friendly, though. "Um, good luck?" 

"Yeah..." he said, almost a sigh, and then after another hesitation I heard the click. 


	5. Drinking

A/N: If you've read my fic "Christmas Shopping," the same rationale for the holidays applies here as there. If you haven't, just assume that I put a bit of thought into giving their world roughly the same holidays as ours. And I hope Reno's characterization is okay; I keep seeing him as my ex-roommate's husband, so Reno may be in character for that guy rather than for himself. 

Chapter Five

  


He showed up the next day, at five, which was early for him even on a day that I got off early. "You feeling better?" he asked. 

"Yeah. Really, I am," I added, since he looked doubtful. Not that adding 'really' to a statement ever convinces anyone. 

"Well, good," he said, still a bit doubtful-sounding. "You'd tell me if you weren't?" 

"Of course I would!" 

"Okay," he agreed. "Better order... Scotch, I guess. Straight up." I just blinked at him. "What?" 

"Well, um..." 

"Oh. Business," he clarified. 

"Okay. You aren't going to kill anyone in here, are you?" I asked, trying to sound jaded rather than, say, stomach-churningly nervous. 

"No, of course not. Too many witnesses." I think he was joking, but he kept a completely straight face, so it was hard to tell. 

He was soon joined by a tall, heavyset man with a full head of gray hair. Rude greeted him as Fred, and Fred asked my breasts to bring him a whiskey sour. They didn't say a word to each other while I was within their hearing, though Rude did give me a tight smile while ordering his second scotch, and after finishing those drinks they left together. Kiri kept staring at me wide-eyed for the rest of the evening, but she was also a lot more respectful, so I didn't complain. 

* * *

After a few more days of the bitter cold, we had one miniature snowstorm; it dusted the buildings with white, rendered the sidewalks slippery, but didn't even close the schools, let alone providing any sort of enjoyment. I've never learned to drive, so I like snow. It's the only good thing about cold. But it melted with indecent haste and the weather warmed up to mild; I didn't even need a light jacket. And I started getting good tips again. But there was no sign of Rude. 

A few days later, Elena turned up at the bar alone. It was a slow night, and I was decorating the tree in the corner. Tir doesn't believe in decorating until the first of December, if then. He'd started quoting statistics about holiday suicides, as if some lights on the windows would push our regulars over the edge. When I asked him if he really didn't want us to decorate, though, he'd just say "No, no, it's fine." Eventually the waitstaff had collectively shrugged and started hauling everything out of storage anyway. 

Elena dithered about for a bit, then chose a table, and waved at me when she saw me looking her way. I got up, dusting off my knees, and came over to take her order. 

"I don't know... just coffee? Wait, no, this is a bar." 

"You can order coffee," I reassured her. "No one cares." 

"Yeah, but I might as well go for a drink. Uh. A strawberry daiquiri?" 

"Sure," I said, trying not to grin as I went to get it for her. 

"Sit, sit," she said when I came back, making little gestures at the empty chair for emphasis. 

"Well...." I looked around. One of the regulars, a guy named Finn, was at the bar, and over in one corner we had a couple of guys Kiri had been serving. Nothing for me to do. "Just for a little while." 

"That's fine," she said brightly, took a drink and scrunched up her face. 

"Don't like it?" 

"I'm still adapting to this 'drinking alcohol' stuff," she admitted. 

"We saw you in that bar in Wutai..." 

"Yeah, and I was drinking about the most rum-free piña colada the world has ever known. A piña colada! It came with one of those cute little umbrellas! I hid the umbrella before you guys came up, but still. I try and try, but I'm just not cut out to be a hard-drinking cold-blooded bastard!" 

I was having a hard time keeping a straight face at the idea of Elena ever being any of those things. "If it helps any, Rude seems to mostly just drink beer." 

"Yeah, or nothing at all. But on business, he can drink whatever and not make faces all the time. Do you know how seriously everyone doesn't take me?" 

"Well, no, but I'll take your word for it." Actually, I did know, from personal experience, but I didn't think it would help her mood any to hear that. 

"Yeah," she said, and pouted at her glass. "So anyway. How're you and Rude getting along?" 

"Fine, I guess. I mean, I haven't seen him in a couple of days..." 

"You guys get in a fight?" she asked with mild alarm. 

"Not really. I sort of brought up the Shinra stuff, but I don't think he's staying away because of that." I hoped not. 

"Yeah. I guess I shouldn't ask about the Shinra stuff you talked about, right?" 

"I'd rather you not," I admitted, tracing the fake woodgrain of the table with my fingernail. One of those moods a week was enough. 

"Did he tell you how he got recruited into the Turks?" 

"Out of college, right?" 

"Sort of. He was falsely linked to some anti-government stuff... didn't actually do it, but he had the conviction on his record, so he couldn't get a decent job, I guess, even with a degree. He was working as a bouncer and he ended up fighting Reno." 

"He didn't tell me all that..." It would explain why he's so conservative, though. 

"I think he's kind of ashamed of it. Not the fighting Reno part, his record." 

"So basically that's the criteria for getting into the Turks? Beat up on Reno?" 

"Yeah, like an audition. Maybe that's why he's got those scars. I don't know how they did it before he joined." I grunted thoughtfully. Apparently encouraged by that, she continued. "They recruited all of us because of capacity for violence, I guess. It's Reno's main qualification. But he grew up in Little Wutai, in Sector Three, so he's pretty fluent. I guess that's his other thing, they all each had two. Rude's is research. Me, I'm a fluke. I think they were desperate. Actually I know they were desperate. I don't stand out as much as the other two, but that's all. They didn't give me any special undercover training, so I don't know why they had me." 

"You nearly kicked my ass that time we fought." 

She looked delighted. "Really?" 

"Yeah. Kind of surprised me. I mean, you're tiny! You're littler than me." 

"I know!" she said proudly. "I really almost kicked your ass?" 

"Yep," I agreed. "Does Reno really cook?" 

"Loves it. If you let him he'll talk about spices for hours. Anyway, about you and Rude...." 

"I don't talk about that stuff!" Except to Aerith, and that's not an option now. "I mean, the first date wasn't really a date, and the next try got cut short, and..." _And I should shut up before I completely put the lie to what I just said,_ I thought. "It's personal!" 

"Have you guys even kissed?" she demanded. Maybe 'personal' meant something different in her language. 

"Um, not really. Oh, I think I need to wait on somebody!" 

"Tifa! Stay! That bleach-blonde has it. Sit." 

"I'm not a dog," I grumbled, but I sat back down. It was kind of nice to have someone prying into my personal life, in a weird, reminiscent-of-high-school way. 

"Come onnnnnn," she whined. "Rude won't tell us a thing, we have to have _some_ source of gossip!" 

"We? Reno's in on this too?" 

"Did I say 'we'?" 

"Yes. You did." 

"Oops." 

"There's nothing to gossip about, anyway," I protested, and stood up, administering a vigorous and unneeded wiping to the tables in the immediate vicinity. 

"See, we need to fix that." 

"It'll fix itself in its own time. You don't rush things." I rushed things with Cloud, and look where that got me. Alone in Junon, being interrogated by a pocket-sized Turk. 

"So there's something that could be rushed?" she asked hopefully. 

"Elena? You. Me. Outside." 

"No no no no no. I'll leave that alone," she said, with a dismissive little wave. 

I let the gesture slide. "Good. Why are you trying to get all... in the middle of this?" 

"Well, it's not that, exactly. I just want it to work out with you guys, because he's crazy about you, but he's so shy! And you're not helping, I'm sure. If you just sit around waiting for him to make all the moves, the continents will be in different shapes by the time it happens. You have to encourage him." 

I blinked, trying to decide if she'd come here with a mission or if she were just letting things slip again. "Well, I think it'll be okay," I said lamely. He _had_ asked me out to dinner, after all. 

"You want to hear about his crush on you?" she asked, eager again. Yes, she probably did have a mission. I wondered if it were Rude's idea, Reno's, or her own. 

"Elena, I think it'd mean more coming from him... Okay, I definitely have to wait on those people." 

I did. And then I found my way into the women's room, and then I covered Kiri's tables while she did the same. By the time I got back to Elena, she'd finished her drink and turned maudlin. "Am I completely annoying?" she asked me. 

"Elena, of course not!" I said indignantly, picking up the empty glass. "You're just a little bit annoying." That turned out to be a very ill-judged joke. 

"You hate me!" she wailed, then burst into big messy sobs. I patted her shoulder and insisted I didn't, and then Rude and Reno walked in. They drew some of the stares away from the two of us, and then people lost interest because they weren't shooting anyone. I waved at them, and they headed our way. 

"Thank God you're here," I greeted them fervently. "I made Elena cry and I can't get her to stop." 

"She thinks I'm annoying!" Elena sniffled. 

"No I don't!" I repeated. I felt like I'd been saying that a lot. Rude slung an arm around my shoulders and steered me away. 

"He'll cheer her up," he said under his breath. I looked over my shoulder and his arm. Reno was squatting next to her chair, talking quietly. When he smiled, his face looked pleasantly homely, rather than mildly terrifying, and he had a hopeful expression that looked kind of familiar. 

Then it dawned on me where I'd seen that look before. "Is he...?" 

He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. "They went out when she was in training. Didn't work out. He gives up hard." 

"Ah." I slipped behind the bar to get him his beer. I didn't really care about Reno's love life, and something else had been worrying me. "Rude, are you okay? You seemed kind of... I dunno, upset, the other day. And I haven't seen you since." I didn't want to suggest nervousness, for some reason. 

"Comes with the territory," he said, which wasn't really an answer, but I let it go, just squeezed his hand when I gave him the drink. When I was across the room, taking someone else's order, I kept glancing at him; no change, though. I don't know why I expected one. Reno finally managed to get my attention while I was on my way back to the bar. 

"Million miles away, huh, Lockhart?" Reno asked. I've gotten used to being called by my last name, but coming from his lips, it just sounded vaguely mocking. 

"Guess so." The scars somehow make him look as though he's perpetually smirking, but on closer inspection, he wasn't really. "You guys want to order?" I asked inanely, as if he'd have flagged me down to settle a bet. 

"Yeah. Another of whatever she had and a tequila sunrise for me." 

* * *

Rude rejoined them, and I realized all over again how quiet he was. Of course, some of that was in contrast to Elena, who had cheered up quite well thanks to Reno and her second drink. Every so often she burst into song, though fortunately only for a line or two at a time. They probably recruited her just to liven up the company parties. I basically stayed away except to bring them drinks. Whenever I was near Reno gave me unsettling looks, and Rude was no help at all in breaking the ice. 

Finally Reno took it into his own hands, lurking around the bar until I was forced to go there myself. "Lockhart, what the hell is your deal?" he asked. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protested, wiping down the bar. Tir was mixing the drinks, keeping an eye on me but not saying a word. 

"Yeah, you do. You've been staying away all evening. What's the problem? If it's with me, then just say it." 

"Okay, fine, yeah. It is." 

"If you're expecting an apology—" 

"NO I'm not expecting an apology!" I half-shrieked, then quieted when Tir looked up. I was going to rub the varnish right off the wood if I kept up. "No point to it anymore and it's not _me_ you need to apologize to anyway," I said, quieter but no less vehement. "_I_ didn't die in Sector 7." I didn't look over my shoulder, but I was almost sure Rude was watching us. 

"Okay, okay," he muttered, rolling his eyes and clearly biting back more that he wanted to say. "What is it, then?" 

"You and your... you've been taking this weird tone with me the whole time." 

"No, I haven't. This is how I always—" 

"And you could stop calling me by my last name." 

"But it's good enough for your boyfriend?" 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I just don't like it coming from you." I couldn't even explain why it bothered me, but obviously it did. Or he did. Belatedly, I realized I'd lost my chance to indignantly protest that he wasn't my boyfriend. And I didn't mind. 

"Okay, fine. _Tifa._ Happy now?" 

"Ecstatic," I retorted. 

"He's the only one ever called you that until now. I picked it up since he said you didn't mind, obviously you do, my mistake." Okay, that was it. I didn't want to think he was just treating me the way all the Turks treated all of us. Which was really stupid, since I could be pretty sure Reno had never taken Barret out for dinner. 

"What did you call me before?" I demanded, loading drinks onto the tray. 

"Well, you all had nicknames, you know, the Ancient, the Brat, Spike, Tits, Huge Fucking Black Guy, things like that," he admitted. "Rude never used 'em, didn't like 'em much, and... well, I was the only one, come to think of it." 

"You asshole," I said, with no real conviction. At least he was honest about it, and really, it could have been worse. 

"So you guessed which one you were yet?" he asked, walking with me as I headed over for the table the drinks belonged to. I couldn't decide whether to punch him or to laugh. I decided on neither, since my hands were full. 

"Reeeeeeeeeno!" Elena called, her elbows splayed on the table, head on hands. "Come over here! I learned a new trick!" 

"She what now?" 

"God knows. Look, I'll stay out of your way and I got no problem with you, so..." 

"Yeah, that works," I said, hoping to shake him off before I got to my destination; the customers were looking uneasy. "I won't try and kill you and Elena wants you, so you better go." 

I could hear them behind me as I chatted with the customers. "Reno, check me out! I can wiggle my ears." 

"They ain't wiggling, 'Lena." 

"Yeah they are. They feel like they are! Look!" 

"That's your earrings moving, hon." 

"Miss, are those people really the Turks?" 

"Huh? Uh, I dunno exactly," I stammered. I didn't want to ruin their reputation, or on the other hand, scare off paying drinkers. "You guys enjoy now," I added, ready to hurry away. 

"They _feel_ like they're wiggling," she insisted. 

"I bet they do," he was saying. Rude was sitting back, watching them with that half-smile of his, which just broadened when he noticed I was watching. I smiled back at him. And I brought her a cup of coffee in their next round of drinks. 

* * *

At closing time, we split up; Reno was to see a giggling, swaying Elena home, and I got Rude. "Well, that was interesting," I said, unable to stop myself. 

"She, uh, say anything about me?" 

I smiled at the ground. "A little." 

"Yeah?" 

"You're gonna have to come out and ask me directly, Rude." 

"Hellfire." 

I started giggling myself – I hadn't had anything alcoholic, but Elena's giddy mood had been contagious. He tried to look ominous, but I didn't even attempt to stop laughing until he cracked a smile. "Okay, really, she didn't say a lot. Was she supposed to be playing matchmaker or something?" 

"Dunno. Reno must have said something to get her to go. We think she needs a woman friend. She's started talking about her periods," he admitted, the last part all in an embarrassed rush. 

"Oh, you poor baby!" I exclaimed, barely containing my mirth. I would have killed to witness a conversation like that. "Like, in detail?" 

"No, just..... Some things I don't wanna know about people I share the bathroom with," he mumbled. 

Not wanting to argue the point with him, I changed the subject abruptly. "Hasn't she done any drinking since she joined you guys?" 

"This is an improvement. Three years ago, she was laughing at nothing halfway through the first. I guess she didn't get out much in college." 

"Well, she is awfully little," I said. "She didn't tell me about her periods, though, so I guess I'd better keep spending time with her until she gets it out of her system." 

"Shouldn't have mentioned it. Don't want you to just do it as a favor. Be her friend, I mean." 

"No, I have them too." 

"Aww, jeez, Lockhart!" he protested. 

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "It's just a part of life, Rude!" 

"Yeah, but... but... hell." 

"Hellfire?" I offered hopefully. 

He gave one of those short barks of laughter. "You liked that?" 

"It's the most I've ever heard you curse, I think. And it's funny." 

"Always helps in profanity," he agreed. He seemed in an awfully good mood, too. 

"But honestly, I'm not just trying to be friends with Elena for your sake. I'm not _that_ friendly. She seems nice, you know, and she's a happy drunk, so that's two points already." 

"That's good to hear," he said. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he added jubiliantly, "And you and Reno didn't try to kill each other!" 

"Relieved, huh?" I said, smiling. 

"Guess so," he said. We stopped at a crosswalk, though there aren't many cars around ever, especially not late at night, and he slipped his arm around my waist. I rested my head cautiously against his side, half expecting to feel a gun against my cheek. I didn't. He still fought like me, then. I could hear his heart beating, hard, and he turned half towards me. "You know, I don't think I ever hit you. I always tried not to. Kind of hard to remember," he was saying, and his face was awfully close to mine. He fumbled the sunglasses off with his free hand. "If I ever did, I swear I didn't mean anything by it." 

"I don't think you did," I said pointlessly, and then he kissed me. I've never actually been so shocked by a kiss as to just stand there wide-eyed, and I wasn't this time, either, though it did take me a moment to remember how it went with hands and parting lips and everything. After just a moment he pulled back, and I opened my eyes, disappointed. 

"Sorry," he said, sheepish, sticking the glasses in his jacket pocket, and I mumbled something inane like "that's okay" just before we started kissing again. 


	6. Surprises

A/N: Sorry about the relatively long delay between the last chapter and this one (long given that previously I'd posted an update every three days or so.) 

Chapter Six

  


I woke up the next day in a strangely happy mood, and it took me a moment to remember why. Then I burrowed back down into the covers to bask. I had a brief vision of calling Aerith, happily recapping the previous evening for her. 

When he'd pulled back, he'd smiled, tentatively, as if I still might change my mind and slap him. I'd smiled back, and said "I need to start wearing heels." My neck hurt. 

"Be hell on your feet, with your job," he'd replied. "We'll just get you a box to stand on." 

"Yeah, _that's_ romantic," I'd retorted, and he laughed, which broke the mood enough that we started walking again, talking about other things, nothing even remotely memorable: weather and the problems with the phone service around here and my inability to remember to buy cat litter. In the elevator up to my apartment, we fell awkwardly silent until just before we reached my floor. He turned to me, opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, and I realized he hadn't put the sunglasses back on yet. I heard the ding, and the doors slid open. 

"See you tomorrow?" he managed, after a hesitation, and I'd nodded, smiling, and then we both stuck an arm out to hold the door open so I could step out. 

"G'night..." I mumbled, almost embarrassed, and he echoed "Night," just before the door closed. I stood in the hall, looking at the elevator doors for a moment before turning, letting myself into my place, and beaming at my cat. 

That morning I actually hummed, happily and tunelessly, as I dumped sugar in my coffee and food in my cat's dish. I was disgusted when I caught myself at it, but I hummed. So there was one good reason to be thankful I lived alone – no one to catch me at it. Another reason was that I could lounge around in my pajama pants and drink my coffee and not worry about making noise. Cloud always thought I was crazy for waking with the dawn just in order to start my day slow; now, I could do this without disturbing anyone. 

Although I guess that doesn't stop them from disturbing me. It was a little after eight when I heard the knock at the door. I answered it, and blinked at him. "Rude? What are you doing here so early?" He was holding a bakery box. 

"Donuts," he offered, by way of explanation. 

"Yeah, I guessed that. Um, why?" I took the box off his hands. "Come on inside." 

"Well, sugar's a good bribe. And I figured you for an early riser." 

"Well, I am, but why do I need bribing? Oh, these are the good kind!" Meaning from the Daybreak Bakery. All glazed and chocolate-frosted, and still warm. Perfect. 

"Figure a bribe never hurts," he said, grabbing one out of the box himself. My cat jumped on his lap and tried to snag the donut with a paw. 

"Here, I'll go get you a plate, you can use it as a shield for your food," I offered. "Hi," he said to the cat, pushing it away from the donut but basically ignoring me, so I went for the plates. "You know, some guys bring flowers," I added, teasing, as I handed one to him and settled the box on the coffee table. 

"You rather have those?" 

I remembered the first flower anyone ever gave me. The one Cloud bought from Aerith. In a strange, backwards way, that was the relationship between the three of us in a nutshell. "Nah," I said, perching on the arm of the only chair. "You can't eat them." 

"Yeah. Uh. The bribe's because I won't be around the bar tonight. Wanted you to know I'm not avoiding you or anything." 

"That's fine," I told him, completely failing to understand why this would be a problem. "I wouldn't have figured you were. It wasn't like we had tickets to the opera or anything. I just like seeing you." 

"You do?" he asked, sounding surprised. 

"Noooo, I scream and run away whenever you walk in the bar. Hadn't you noticed?" 

He gave me a look, or maybe just checked me out. Without seeing his eyes, it's a bit hard to tell. I smiled sweetly at him. He sighed and looked down at his hands. 

"Is something wrong?" I asked. 

"......Lockhart, what... are we?" he managed to say, sounding a bit strangled. He was staring at his clasped hands, very fixedly. He didn't seem to mind that my cat was sharpening his claws on his pants leg. I got up, pulled the cat away, and sat on the couch next to him, holding the cat on my lap. As usual when faced with a lap it didn't like, my cat jumped off and huffed over to the chair I'd vacated. Rude barely looked up the whole time. 

"You mean like a couple?" I asked gently. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. I was trying to see his eyes from the side, but I couldn't make out his expression. "I don't know, Rude. I'm not seeing anyone else, and, uh, I... I like you, so, uh, I guess..." 

"You do?" he repeated, glancing over at me. I tried to smile reassuringly and nodded. He smiled a little, too. 

"What about you?" I asked, just trying to fill up the silence. 

"Lockhart, I can't even think about anyone else. I'm..." he stopped, pushed his sunglasses back up on his face. I saw him swallow hard, and I reached out to touch his arm. He covered my hand with his, raised it to his lips and kissed the palm. It was my turn to look down and try to hide my expression. 

"....never been good at these talks...." he said quietly. He was still holding my hand, studying it. I wondered what he was getting out of it. The sight of two ragged hangnails, the rough skin, not quite callused, along the base of my fingers, the scar on the back of my hand. Or maybe just an excuse not to look at my face. I've been there too, afraid to see the feelings in someone else's eyes. Because they might not be the same as yours, or then again, they might be, and either option is terrifying. I always thought being on the other end of this equation would feel better than it does. 

"Neither am I," I said softly. "I really do care about you, though." I saw him smile at my hand, maybe with a touch of sadness, though it was hard to tell. I wished I could just fall in love with him. Even if he wasn't in love with me, at least I'd be on familiar turf again. 

There was a long pause, and I wondered if I'd said something wrong. Then he finally looked up, brushed the hair off my face. "Me too," he agreed, and I smiled. 

"I'd kiss you, but, y'know, morning breath," I told him. 

He brushed his lips just over the corner of my mouth. "I don't mind. Better go, though. Business." I nodded, didn't say anything. He stood, and when I looked up at him, he just stared at me for a moment. "Does it bother you?" he asked. 

"Not really. Maybe it should, but I don't know specifically what you do, and what would the worst of it be? Killing people? I've got no room to get judgmental over that." 

"At least you had a reason." 

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" I asked, finally realizing. 

"Some. It was different, with Shinra." My face must have changed, because he added, "Sorry." 

"If you need to talk, though..." 

"Maybe tomorrow," he added. "Have to take care of this first." I nodded, again, and he let himself out. 

* * *

I got into work a bit late that day. Tir was back in the office, and Kiri was setting up. But she wasn't too busy to stop and greet me with a broad grin. "Soooooo..." she said. 

"What?" I asked, completely baffled. 

"Well, you're late, so you must have slept in... and you walked out with your boyfriend last night... and you're wearing a turtleneck, so you've probably got a hickey to hide..." 

"I huh? Did you just say hickey? Am I twelve again?" 

"Hickey's a perfectly good word. Come on, tell me everything!" 

"Since when are we friends?" I demanded, without even an attempt at tact. 

"Well jeez, Tifa. I'm just trying to be friendly. Sex is a good thing to bond over." I should have guessed she'd be impervious to rudeness. 

"It is?" 

"Yeah, that and drinking." 

"Um, I think you and I come from different planets, Kiri. Besides, I didn't have sex with him. I just like this shirt." I busied myself about the tables, clattering the chairs down onto the floor. 

"You didn't?" she asked, crestfallen. 

"No." She was waiting for me to say something else, and I guess there's only so long I can keep everything in, because I added, "We did decide we're together, like in a relationship. I think. I'm pretty sure. And we finally got around to kissing." 

"Just now? Oh, that is so cute! Don't look at me like that, I'm not being condescending." 

"You make it hard to tell," I retorted sourly. She waved that off. I barely even bristled, oddly enough. 

"So you guys are serious?" 

"Oh, I don't know. I haven't asked and he hasn't said. Isn't it enough that we had the relationship talk without expanding it?" 

"Yeah, he seems like he'd be awfully close-mouthed about that kind of stuff." 

"Actually, he brought it up." 

"Oh, that's so sweet! I guess he is pretty serious about you, then." 

"I don't know. I kind of want to just go on without analyzing everything. It's a nice change from my last boyfriend." 

"What was he like?" 

"It wasn't him, it was me... we got together just before Meteor fell, and you know, there was this big intense thing, and then it turns out we didn't die, and it's like, now we've got to figure out how to have a real relationship. And there was this bizarre love triangle, and... well, it's complicated." And how in the world could I tell her without letting slip about Avalanche and Sephiroth and all those things that would make me very unpopular around here? I wasn't sure it was possible. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about it. 

"I will definitely have to pry this out of you later." 

"You two get to work!" Tir barked, sticking his head out of the office, and we both bustled around for a bit in an effort to look busy. And then our first few customers started coming in, so she couldn't grill me any further. And I blessed whatever deity might exist for that. 

Reno and Elena came in after a while, too. I let Kiri wait on them, but Elena kept trying to signal me over, practically bouncing out of her chair. Finally, I gave in and went to talk to them. 

"Don't worry about him too much," Elena blurted the minute I came up. "It's just Joey, so he shouldn't have any trouble, and—" 

"What?" I asked, blank, looking from one face to the other. 

"Elena," Reno said warningly at almost the same moment. 

"Sorry!" she squeaked, practically hunkering down in her chair. "I just thought she looked worried!" 

"Should I be worried?" I demanded, aiming the question more at Reno. 

"Nah. We're Turks. This guy's no challenge." 

"Is it likely to be a fight? I thought you just, you know, shot them or... or something." Why didn't I ever watch those Mafia movies back when cable existed? 

"Well—" Elena began, but Reno interrupted to say "He'll be fine, he'll be fine." 

"Great. Well, I wasn't worried _before_," I grumbled, trying to smile. Trying not to actually look concerned. 

"At least he's really heavily armed!" Elena chirped, and Reno buried his head in his hands. I just turned and walked away. 

* * *

I don't know how long Barret had been around before I spotted him, but when I did I nearly dropped my tray. He wasn't drinking, but he was sitting at a table with a man I vaguely recognized. As I took another order, I tried to place him. Finally, I realized it was Fred, the one Rude had shared a drink with some time before. He got up from Barret's table and walked out. I passed him, on my way to Barret's table, and he managed to look me over. Kiri and I shared an eye-roll over that. 

Barret must have noticed me before I spotted him, because he greeted me with an unsurprised, "Hey, Tif'! How's it goin'?" 

"Pretty good..." I answered, not managing to fake cheerfulness properly. "I had no idea you'd be around here. What brings you here?" 

"Just a layover. I'm headed for Kalm, private business..." 

"Oh," I said, vaguely understanding. Thanks to Rude, I never want to ask about 'business,' and the fact that he'd been meeting with Fred added to my reluctance. "How are things going with you? You're looking good." He was, too. He'd lost the hunted, desperate look he'd had so much in our Avalanche days. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed, and he'd traded in the gun-arm for a more traditional prosthetic hand. And he was wearing a gray business suit, a look that, to my surprise, worked well on him. 

"Fine, just fine. Marlene's doing well in school, coal prices are good, Corel's population is growing again and we finally got the new constitution fully ratified." 

"Barret, that's great," I said warmly. I hadn't followed the news closely, but I knew how hard he'd worked on the constitution and how much Corel as a nation meant to him. "It really is. Can I get you anything?" 

"Whatever you've got on tap, I guess. Unless it's that Midgarsorm piss," he said with a grin, and I assured him it wasn't and went to get it. When I came back, he was staring off to the left and looked noticeably less content. 

"Something wrong?" I asked. 

"Looks like you just in Shinra central around here," he observed, his eyes hard. I followed his gaze over to Reno and Elena's table. They were both managing to look menacing, which was all the more impressive since I hadn't thought of them as such even when we fought them all the time. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so, a little." 

"They come in here a lot?" 

"Kind of..." I answered weakly. "They never give us any trouble. And they tip well." 

"Yeah, I bet. With the ties they have to slime, they probably rich." I looked at him sharply, not that he noticed. I'd also noticed that his accent was coming back, stronger than ever; he'd adopted it, years ago, in a conscious effort to sound tough, and dropped it as he rose to new prominence in Corellian politics. 

"I don't know..." I said. Spineless. "They seem decent enough." _And weren't you just talking to some of the slime they have ties to?_ I wanted to ask, but I didn't. 

"Just an act," he said confidently. 

"Maybe so... hold on a second, Barret, okay?" Reno had just lit a cigarette, something I'd never noticed him doing before, and more to the point, Tir had gone to all kinds of trouble to make this place non-smoking. 

"Excuse me," I said, as soon as I got near. "You aren't allowed to smoke in here, _sir._" 

"Oh. My mistake," he agreed pleasantly, and took a drag on the cigarette. I reached for it, and he grabbed me by the wrist, hard enough to make me wince. "Did you know he was coming here?" he hissed. 

"Let go of me!" I insisted, but quietly. God forbid I make a scene. "I had no idea! It was a complete surprise to me, I'm not even in touch with him, and I didn't even tell him I know you guys except as customers so _let go of me now._" 

He let go. I yanked the cigarette out of his mouth, considered putting it out on his hand, and instead dropped it in what was left of his beer. I wrinkled my nose against the stench. He didn't even react. 

"You can bring me another on the house," he told me, his voice surprisingly smooth and sounding genuinely dangerous for the first time I could remember. "Actually, no. Vodka. Bring us the whole bottle." 

"I... but... gah... wait!" Elena protested. 

"Vodka," he repeated firmly at me. "Elena, you can't spazz out publicly at a time like this," he added under his breath as I was walking away. 

I went back to make some more small talk with Barret, nothing significant, just a distraction from all the weirdness. He left after he'd finished his one beer. Reno and Elena stayed put. I actually saw Elena drink at least one shot of the vodka and I heard not a single giggle from her. I guess she can perform when under the right amount of pressure, though I didn't fully understand why they were under pressure. 

Rude came in, not long before closing time. He hugged me tightly, but silently, and then went to wait outside for me and, from what I could see, confer with the others. They were just leaving as I stepped outside. 

"So you saw Wallace?" he asked, sounding tired. 

"He was talking to that guy you know. Fred." His brows contracted, sort of a frown that only involved his eyes. "Rude, you can curse. I don't mind." 

"Turk thing again. Have to keep control. Reno and Elena didn't know?" 

"I'm not sure. I didn't mention it to them, I thought they'd have seen... but he was sort of over in a corner. Maybe not." 

"They didn't mention it. I'll have to tell them, but I can guess how this'll turn out. Lockhart, we aren't staying in Junon." 

"You aren't?" I repeated, trying to process this, and to confirm indirectly that I wasn't expected to come along. He shook his head. "Where are you going?" 

"Midgar. Reeve's leading in the polls, he'll need bodyguards even before the election." And Rude had reached this decision right after Barret had been seen talking to someone with ties to one of the families. The realization must have shown on my face, because he continued, more gently, "Wallace might just be an old friend of his. Fred's. Has to have some, I figure. We should still go protect Reeve." 

"Why would Barret be... negotiating....?" 

"D'you think he was?" I just stared at him, confused and unhappy and unable to answer. He studied me for a moment, then continued. "Reeve's spoken out in favor of hydroelectric power. Doesn't go over well with a coal town. Don't know that Wallace really would do anything drastic, but you can't rule anything out." 

"I guess not," I sighed. He slipped an arm around me, drew me close against him. I leaned against his side, didn't speak the rest of the way home. We also didn't take the long way around. "At least you can get out of all this," I said, as we drew near my apartment. He let go of me, reaching to open the door, and I stepped just inside. 

"Hate to leave you, though," he said, and I turned to him with the beginnings of a smile. He touched my face lightly, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I should get to see you again before we go." 

"Good," I said softly, and we managed a slightly awkward kiss goodnight before he turned to go. 


	7. Longdistance

A/N: Asgard is now the name of the country incorporating Midgar, Kalm, and everything else east of the mountains on that continent. Because I said so. 

Chapter Seven

  


The next evening, he showed up at the bar alone. I'd been chatting with Finn, and I left off in midsentence when I spotted Rude. He lingered near the door, and I sighed, realizing he'd probably come just to say goodbye. 

"Cab's outside," he greeted me as I neared, confirming my suspicions. 

"Damn, you guys are efficient," I joked ruefully, setting my tray down on an empty table, and he half-smiled. "But I guess you're using one of the Shinra helicopters..." 

"Can't. Some kind of ethical thing about Reeve. He's not president of Shinra anymore, stepped down a while back. We're just taking a commercial flight." 

"You what?" I said, frowning. All the commercial airplanes are old ones, pulled back out of retirement; jets were the first vehicles to go mako. "But..." 

"There hasn't been a crash yet," he offered, I guess meaning to reassure me. 

"Great," I muttered, rolling my eyes heavenward. "That's such a comfort." 

"Listen, too late to argue about it. The flight's in half an hour... guess you can't get off work." 

"Not right now, we're kind of busy..." I had this uncomfortable feeling that most of the eyes in the bar were on us. 

"Then, uh, I better go. Elena's already tense, she likes to be early for everything." 

"Yeah..." I agreed, and then I pulled him close for a kiss. I heard "whooo" noises from around the bar, and a smattering of applause when it was over. He was blushing again. I probably was too. 

"I'll, uh, I'll call you?" he suggested. 

"Yeah. Except for today I haven't been closing much, so you can call late whenever you want. I don't mind being woken up," I told him, and he kissed me again, quickly, and hurried out. 

* * *

When I got home that night, the message light on my answering machine was blinking. I pushed play and headed into the kitchen to fix a sandwich, then stopped and got up out of the refrigerator when I heard his voice. "Lockhart, just letting you know I'm not dead. Kind of feel like it, but I'm pretty sure I'm breathing. Reeve's campaign is putting us up in the Adelphi. I'll call you with the room number once I can remember it." I smiled to myself, and since I figured my cat couldn't tell on me, I listened to it a few more times just for the hell of it. 

The next morning I listened to it once more, telling myself I was only doing it so I could erase the message, but this time I noticed the weariness in his voice. I think it's a five or six hour time difference between here and Kalm – I assumed he was in Kalm, rather than in Midgar – which is bad enough, but come to think of it, I wasn't entirely sure he would have gotten much sleep. They'd probably had to pack most or all of their possessions, in the twenty-four hours between the times that I'd seen him. Less than that, really. And I couldn't call to henpeck him into taking care of himself, either. 

It was definitely one of the more boring and depressing days I'd had at work for a long time. After all, I'd only seen him for a little while the previous two days, so I couldn't help feeling that it was time for a visit. I kept forgetting he was gone and having hopeful moments whenever I saw a bald scalp. Worse, Kiri's shift started before mine ended and she kept trying to distract me from my troubles. Eventually she got me to agree to see a movie with her "sometime," though I managed to avoid committing to a time. 

That night, I was sitting around watching TV, trying to get interested in the coverage of the Asgard elections, when the phone rang. "Hello?" I answered it, automatic, though I could be almost sure it was him. 

"Hey," he said, almost tenderly, and I smiled as I sank into the chair. 

"Hey!" I replied, recognizing his voice. "How's everything going?" 

"Not bad. Reeve's doing fine. Hotel's nice." 

"You know, the problem with being on the phone is that you can't see that I'm nodding as you talk." 

"Huh?" he replied, and I laughed. 

"Well, there's not much I can say to any of that, you know, so if you were here I'd just nod..." 

"How are things there?" 

"Well, the weather's still miserable, the bar's about like it's always been, Kiri's trying to be friendlier for some obscure reason and my cat has started eating paper." 

"Oh. Busy day." 

"Something like that." I pulled my knees up to my chest. "Rude, you're being unusually quiet, even for you." 

"Sorry. Never been good with the phone. Kind of strange. You'd think it'd be easier to talk when I'm not looking at you." 

"Run that by me again?" I demanded. 

"Well, you're... uh... distracting-looking." 

I mulled that over. "Beautiful" would have suited me fine, but I wasn't sure I could say as much without sounding like a shrew. "In a good way, I hope?" 

"A very good way. Yeah." 

I grinned to myself. "In your own weird little way, you're awfully sweet sometimes." 

"Weird?" he protested, indignant. "Little?" 

"Well, you've got to admit it's kind of a strange way of complimenting someone." 

He made some huffy noise on the other end of the line, and I grinned some more. "Well, it got some expression into your voice, so it all works out." 

"You're an evil woman, Lockhart," he complained. "That 'little' thing's gonna bother me all night." 

"Oh, come on, it's just a word. Besides, you're like eight feet tall, you're not exactly petite." 

He huffed at me again, which just caused me to giggle. "Stop being so cute," he grumbled good-naturedly, so I faked another giggle. There was silence for a moment, then he asked, cautiously, "What the hell was that?" 

"It was supposed to be cuteness, but evidently not," I replied, and he laughed. "Okay, one more time... How're things going there?" 

"I thought it might be interesting, seeing politics up close like this. I was very wrong." 

I laughed. "Do you have to go through a lot of it?" 

"Not that much, but it's plenty for me. Can't complain, though. Reeve's a good guy, pay's decent, and my mom's proud of me." 

"Awwww..." I said, half-mocking. Honestly, I thought it was nice that he spoke to his parents. It was nice that he even had parents. 

"Shut up," he protested cheerfully. "Hey, did I tell you I have a cell phone?" 

"Oh, good, so I won't have to go through the whole deal of calling your room." 

"Or learning a new number when I get an apartment. Yeah." 

"So you're planning to move there permanently?" I asked, in somewhat plaintive tones. 

"That was the plan all along, Lockhart," he reminded me gently. "I thought you knew that." 

"Well... I was sort of in denial about it, I guess. Damn." 

After he gave me the cell phone number, the conversation petered out and we said goodbye. I moped around my apartment for a bit, listlessly threw a plastic ball for my cat to chase, watched my cat ignore it, and then went to bed early. Clearly the long-distance thing was working just beautifully. 

Fortunately I got better as the days went on. He called regularly, and by the end of the week he'd reached the point of sounding like a normal human right from the start of the conversation. Kiri held me to my promise of going to a movie with her. Once I forced down my resentment at not being allowed to brood, I actually enjoyed myself. 

There was an added bonus to this; I was able to get her to help me shop for a gift for him. Mostly, this meant books, on Elena's recommendation, and I just had her hold them and talk to me while we were going from store to store and waiting in line. But she did offer some suggestions. "Send him a picture," she suggested. "Naked." 

"No!" 

"Okay, dressed. But send a picture. Just to remind him why he shouldn't go dating other girls. Because you're hot and you could kick his ass." I'd foolishly let her know about my martial arts training, which she had decided was the coolest thing she'd ever heard. She kept pestering me to teach her things, and would not seem to accept that I wasn't qualified. 

And she wouldn't let me get away with claiming not to have any pictures, so I dug up my camera. I'd managed to use up most of a roll of film when Cloud and I went to Costa del Sol for a vacation, our last one together, but then I never bothered to finish it or get it developed. Kiri took over the camera and started trying to make me laugh so she could take my picture. She succeeded twice (the rest of the time, I managed to get my camera face on) and I went to get the photos developed. 

She insisted on looking at the developed photos, too. Arranging this exposed one of the massive barriers to a friendship between the two of us; she did not believe in waking before noon. After a few days, we managed to get the same day off, and she turned up at my place. "Send him this one where you're in a bikini," she suggested. 

"This is all from when I was with my ex, Kiri. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't much like my ex. He got interested in me back when I was with the other guy..." 

"Tifa, you drive me insane. You go on all tight-lipped for months and then all of a sudden you're dating a Turk and dropping these cryptic little hints about things. I can't help feeling like you have this really cool, dramatic life you're just not telling me about." 

"Trust me, it's not that cool," I assured her, and changed the subject, holding up a picture from the end of the roll, one she'd taken. "I like this one." 

"You've got that fake smile, though," she objected. 

"I worked hard on that smile! Years of practicing for school pictures." 

"How about this one?" she suggested. 

I glanced at it and shook my head. "You made me laugh in that one. I look demented." 

"You look happy! And pretty," she insisted. 

"Nnnng," I protested. 

"Oh, hey, it's five, turn on the news." 

"Since when are you interested in politics?" I asked, but I turned it on. 

"They're doing a lot of... just watch." 

"Oh, the election coverage," I said, and then I spotted Rude in the background behind Reeve and tried not to smile. I think I failed, because she glanced at me and grinned. 

"See?" she said triumphantly. Reeve was talking about redefining Asgard as a nation. I decided not to fuel her paranoia by mentioning that I knew him, too. "And check out his friend," she added. 

"Huh?" I asked, and searched for a glimpse of Reno. "Whoa, his shirt's buttoned." He'd whipped his hair into shape, too, and possibly cut it, though I couldn't quite tell. "Wonder what that's all about." 

"Had to clean up for guard duty," Rude explained that night. "And I think he's trying to get Elena's attention. She and Reeve have been making eyes at each other." 

"Whoa, really?" 

"They worked together on the Cait project. Might have stayed in touch." 

"Ohh..." I said. "Well, that'd be nice for both of them, right?" 

"Seems that way. Lockhart, I have a request." 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't ever remind me I'm on TV." 

"Why?" 

"I always ignored it before, but now we've got Elena on guard duty, and she wanted to see herself. So I watched with her, once," he said ominously, as if recounting a crime he'd witnessed. "Been trying to forget ever since." 

"This is bad? I thought you looked nice. Same as you always look, but that's not bad, so..." 

"My ears. They're huge." 

"Oh, they are not! I think your ears are cute." 

"'Cute'?" he repeated, incredulous. 

"What?" 

"'Cute.' That's for... kittens. Babies. Little fluffy things." 

"Babies are fluffy in your family?" 

"I don't know why I talk to you," he grumbled, but I could hear that he was smiling. 

* * *

The holidays finally came, in typical depressing fashion. "What kind of plans do you have?" Tir asked, as I helped him open on Christmas Eve. 

"I think I'll probably go home and drink bourbon straight out of the bottle while listening to carols on tape, same as last year," I said. I was lying, though. Last year I had worked in a record store over the holidays, and as such I would rather have sacrificed my firstborn than listened to Christmas music outside of work. It sounded like a good plan for this year, though. "How 'bout you?" I asked brightly. 

"Ouch. No family or anything?" 

I decided just to let him not answer. "My parents died years ago... I may hear from Rude, but he's got family, he'll probably spend time with them. Or he might have to work. He didn't say last time I talked to him." 

I did have a gift from him, waiting next to my tiny tree when I went home that evening. It had arrived several days earlier, but I'd saved it, since I knew the holiday would eventually hit me. It's hard not to think back, on certain days, and Christmas was always one of them. Eleven good years, memories a blur of lights and wrapping paper and myself, so excited I couldn't even sit still. One bad one, when Mom was just starting to get really sick. A worse one, the first after her death, and one more bad one after that. And then the two worst, in Midgar, after Papa had died too. I'd been alone, in a tiny cold-water flat in the slums, with no friends, and I'd been too terrified of the city to even try to make any. 

The third year, the Christmas I was seventeen, was the year I met Barret. I was working in a diner at the time, and he'd taken Marlene there for Christmas dinner. Once I got off work that night he invited me home with us; at that point I was deeply suspicious of all men, but I accepted anyway, trusting my instincts. After Marlene fell asleep he and I sat up talking for hours. He didn't introduce me to the rest of Avalanche for months, though. There had been the holidays with him and Marlene and the others, and then with Cloud and our friends in Kalm. And then last year, when I was working at a record store. I'd been so tired and bitter I hadn't cared about being lonely on the holiday. 

I turned on the lights on the tree, something I hadn't bothered to do for most of the month. It did make things look a bit more cheerful. The box contained another box, which I pulled out, and my cat jumped into the opened one. Inside the second box was a lot of tissue paper, and another box. I thought about calling him to ask if he just thought I needed storage, and then when I opened the third there was another – a small, plush-covered box clearly identifiable as the kind they sell jewelry in. 

I think my heart actually stopped. It couldn't be a ring, surely. Not an engagement ring, though that was certainly the first thing that sprung to mind when I looked at it. It had taken him weeks to getting around to kissing me, he wouldn't just send me an engagement ring in the mail. I opened the box, and the phone rang. 

"Hello?" I answered, breathless. The box contained earrings, set with some sort of dark red stone – garnets or rubies, I assumed. 

"Tifa?" Kiri said, uncertainly, and I smiled. 

"Hey, merry Christmas! What's up?" 

"I think you should turn on the TV," she said, very serious. I sat down to do so, putting in my earrings. 

As I fumbled for the remote, I asked her, "What's the big deal?" 

"I just... you should see it, because I'm not sure what's going on exactly, but..." 

The TV flickered to life, saying, "—no comment yet on his status." 

"Ted, why don't we go to the video," a woman's voice said, and then it started and I went cold. It was evening, and from the look of things it was just someone's handheld video camera. The camera was showing Reeve from the side and an angle; he was shaking hands with someone, and then there was a bang, barely even recognizable as a gunshot. Then chaos, people running. The camera was unsteady and grainy. I saw Rude, shooting at someone, and the camera whipped over and up to a building overlooking wherever they were, and an open window. Then back down, and it lingered on Rude for a moment. There was a dark stain at his side, and he sagged, and I saw Elena, running past the camera, and then it focused on a knot of people getting Reeve into a car. Then there was a view of cement, blurry, and then the video cut out. I'd been wrong; _this_ was what it felt like when your heart stopped. 

"For those just joining us, it appears that there has been an assassination attempt on presidential frontrunner Joshua Reeve," the woman intoned, and then started telling us nothing, with lots of words. No report on injuries. Nothing confirmed. They had an eyewitness, saying it looked like the bodyguards killed the attacker, that one of them seemed to be have been shot, that Reeve might have been as well. 

"Tifa?" Kiri was saying. "Tifa?" 

I just sat very still. 


	8. Aftermath

Chapter Eight

  


"Tifa, you have to say something!" Kiri insisted worriedly, and I whispered "no." 

"Tifa, I'm coming over. Is that okay?" 

"Don't you have... family? Or something?" 

"The family stuff is all tomorrow. I'll be over right away, okay? Like five or ten minutes. I'll break all kinds of laws." 

"....okay," I said, barely above a whisper, and then I listened to the dial tone for a bit before I hung up the phone. It took her longer than five or ten minutes. I don't know how long it was, maybe half an hour. She lived in lower Junon. I opened the door and she stepped inside, making trivial noises about the cold, and then she looked at me. 

"Okay. We have to do something about you." 

"I have to get there. I have to see him," I said. I was shaking, I realized. How had I not noticed that before? 

"On Christmas Eve? Tifa. Honey. You're not a doctor, you can't possibly do a lick of good, and it's going to be impossible to..." She trailed off, studying my face. "I guess it couldn't hurt to try." 

"I have to," I repeated. 

"Well, of course," she agreed, in a tone I remembered my mother taking when I was young. She walked me over to the couch, pushed down on my shoulders until I sat. My cat jumped down from his favorite armchair and wound about her feet. 

"Maybe I can get a chocobo," I suggested. 

"Tifa, you've clearly lost your mind. It's understandable, but... Do you mind if I make the arrangements?" I just shook my head in reply, and she looked at me, confused. "You don't mind, or no I shouldn't?" 

"I don't mind," I said. "My credit cards are in my purse." She nodded, and walked away. My cat raced ahead of her and jumped up onto the kitchen table while she rummaged through my purse. She was talking, but none of it registered. The cat seemed to decide she wasn't going to pay attention to her and returned to me, jumping up into my lap to sniff my chin. I scratched him behind the ears while she talked on the phone. I didn't even have to try to pay attention to that. 

"Okay, Tifa, we got you a three a.m. flight," she said. "People still aren't flying as much as before the changes. Do you have anyplace to stay there?" 

"I don't know." 

"You know his friends, don't you? Do you have their phone numbers?" 

"No," I said, staring blankly at my lap. My cat was kneading my leg, and it hurt, but at a distance. I heard Kiri saying "okay," again, and she started bustling around while I sat there and tried not to let my teeth chatter. 

She must have packed my clothes for me, because I didn't remember doing it but I had a carry-on bag by the time I got to the airport. I didn't remember much of anything, honestly, beyond that video, which they kept showing. Maybe I slept for a while, or maybe I just watched the TV. I can't imagine that I slept. In her car on the way to the airport, she asked me about feeding my cat, and I just handed her my entire keychain. At the airport, she hugged me goodbye and told me to call her once I got any news. 

On the plane, I closed my eyes and tried very hard to sleep, just to escape thinking. At first I kept jerking awake whenever I dozed off enough for my mouth to fall open; when I finally got to sleep, I had an anxiety dream where I had to get off the plane, if I could only wake up, but I couldn't seem to wake up. Once I climbed up out of that one, I looked out the window – we'd flown into daylight – and bit my fingernails down to the quick. I hadn't done that since Mom was dying, over ten years ago. 

By the time I'd stepped off the airplane, I had no more nail left to bite and the shock had worn off. Now I just felt frightened and confused and sick, and I'd realized all the problems with my situation. For one thing, I didn't know what hospital they'd have him in, or how to get there, or even if he was in the city of Midgar, though presumably Kiri had tried to send me to the right place. I didn't know if he was even alive, though I didn't let myself touch that thought. I trudged out of the plane, biting down hard on my reaction to watching all these people hugging loved ones. At least most of them were hugging goodbye; it was three on Christmas afternoon. I'd managed to skip the holiday. I still felt like crying. 

And I saw Reno. He looked almost as unkempt as he used to. His face was shadowed with stubble, his eyes red from lack of sleep or tears – I wasn't about to ask – and he held a pair of sunglasses. I went cold all over again, my eyes flicking from his face to the glasses and back to his face. 

He understood, or guessed. "The big guy's in surgery. They took these off, I'm holding 'em for him. That's all. C'mon, let's go." 

He started walking, and I trailed after him, trying to take deep breaths to calm myself. Not an easy task with the pace he was setting. "Is Rude okay?" I asked, trying to catch up. 

"Well, he's in surgery, so by definition, he could be better. But last I heard, he wasn't dead." 

"You're just a little ray of sunshine," I snapped at his back. "What are you doing here, anyway?" 

"Meeting you, dipshit. You were planning to walk to St. Justin's?" 

"I meant how did you know I was coming," I explained, too weary to fight him any further. 

"We called you a couple hours ago, your roommate answered the phone, gave me the flight number 'n' all. Will you get a move on?" 

I couldn't remember that, either, but that didn't entirely surprise me. Or maybe Kiri had gone back to my place after dropping me off. "Can't you call Elena and find out how he's doing right now?" I asked, as I trailed after him. He walked amazingly fast. 

"They don't allow cell phones in the hospital, messes with the instruments or somethin'," he said over his shoulder, the last words he spoke to me until we arrived. And all he said then was "We're here," I guess because I hadn't jumped out fast enough. 

* * *

Elena was sitting huddled in the waiting room. I wondered briefly if anyone were guarding Reeve, but then, he might be in the hospital too. Or he might have other guards besides the Turks. She looked up at us once we neared and smiled. "He's awake, he's fine. His parents were already in to see him, but they went to get food, so you get him all to yourself," she said, and then she started saying other things, a lot of medical terms and something about the hours of surgery – she said something like ten, but that seemed like a lot, so maybe I misheard. The next thing I knew a nurse was directing me to his room. 

At least it was a real room. I'd been fearing the intensive care ward. I remembered being in one myself, although vaguely, and I remembered, altogether too clearly, visiting my mother in a different one. Rude's treatment was at least far less tube-intensive than Mom's had been, and he was sitting up, pale but apparently healthy, although he looked strange in a hospital gown. 

"Hey, baby," he greeted me, uncharacteristically, and I burst into tears. He looked horrified. "I'm sorry. I won't call you that any more. Tifa, please stop crying." 

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" I sobbed, as I sank into the chair by his bed. 

"I won't. Promise. Do you want me not to call you Tifa anymore, either?" 

"I meant getting shot!" 

"I was trying to be funny. Cheer you up." 

"It's not funny! You scared the shit out of me!" I rested my elbows on my knees and shoved my knuckles at my eyes, trying to make myself stop. 

"I'm sorry," he said, and I felt a touch on my arm. I looked up, and he brushed at the tears with his fingertips. 

I felt my face trying to form itself into a smile, not very successfully. "I think this is the worst Christmas I've ever had," I told him. "And some of them really sucked." 

He looked offended. "I _survived,_" he pointed out. "And you got to see me. Isn't it getting better now?" 

"No ego problems with you," I teased half-heartedly. 

"Nope," he agreed cheerfully, but the smile faded a bit once he looked at me. He ran his hand down my jaw. "You're wearing the earrings," he noted. 

"Yeah, I got them open right before I found out..." 

"Just reminded me of you. The red. Good color on you. And I was pretty sure you had pierced ears." He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. 

I nodded absently, but I was willing to try to let him cheer me up or at least distract me. "Zangan _hated_ it, was always giving me these dire predictions about people ripping my ears off in a fight," I said, and he grinned hazily. 

"He taught you? Hey, I bet it was you." 

"What was me?" 

"The girl," he said, as if that explained everything. I turned a glare on him, and he elaborated. "Whenever he thought I wasn't working hard enough, he'd taunt me with this thirteen-year-old girl in Nibelheim with a stronger punch than mine, stuff like that. It must have been you, right?" 

"Because there were _no_ other girls in Nibelheim," I retorted. "I guess it might have been. I didn't know he taught you." 

"Yeah," he said, I guess affirming that Zangan had been his master too, and then he added, "You're so beautiful." It really had nothing to do with anything, but then, he was entitled to be a bit loopy. I felt the tears threatening to spill over. I stood up, trying not to let him see me crying again, but he hadn't let go of my hand, so I leaned down to hug him cautiously. His arms went around me, reassuringly solid. I buried my face against his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," he murmured, stroking my hair. 

I tried not to sniffle noisily in his ear. I was bent at the waist, not the most comfortable or dignified of positions, but I didn't want to pull away right then. "I missed you," I admitted, very quietly. 

"I missed you too," he whispered. "I love you." I still didn't pull away. I just stayed as I was for a long moment, trying to figure out what I was feeling. It wasn't any clearer when I finally did stand up. 

He must have been thinking too. "You don't have to deal with that," he said. "Blame it on the anesthetic." 

".....I.... just.... it...." 

He shook his head. "You need to go. Get some rest." 

"I... yeah. I guess I am tired, now that I think about it." 

"Yeah," he said, but he waited until I managed a wan smile before he squeezed my hand and let go. It wasn't until later that I started worrying that he'd been trying to get rid of me. 

* * *

When I got back out to the waiting room, I noticed the middle-aged couple sitting with Elena. I didn't see Reno anywhere. The woman had mostly-gray hair, about shoulder-length, and the man was bald. Elena stood up, saying, "Oh, Tifa, we forgot introductions. These are Mr. and Mrs. Rude. Ma'am, sir, this is Tifa Lockhart." _Oh, good,_ I remember thinking. _I get to meet his parents. Without him around for moral support. And I spilled coffee down this shirt, too._

"Heard a lot about you," Rude's father said, shaking my hand with a grip that came close to 'crushing.' "Good things," he added, apparently interpreting my grimace of pain as nervousness. He wasn't entirely wrong. 

"I'm Beatrice, and this is my husband Gerik," she added, shaking my hand as well. I became even more convinced they were inspecting me. At least I was wearing nice normal clothes that didn't make me look like a tramp: jeans, a blouse, and boots, the same things I'd worn at work. But my face was puffy, my clothes were wrinkled and stained, and I smelled like airplane coffee and nervous sweat. I guess it was understandable under the circumstances, but it wasn't the first impression I'd wanted to make. 

"It's nice to meet you... I'm sorry, I'm just a mess right now..." 

"Don't worry about it," she replied, and then, to my massive surprise, hugged me. "I'm just as bad," she added, and I noticed her eyes were red-rimmed behind the glasses. "He was kind of groggy when we saw him... how'd he seem to you?" 

"Maybe a little out of it, but he was joking around and everything." 

"Well, that's good!" she exclaimed, and turned toward her husband. "You want to go see him again?" He just nodded, and she gave me a slight wave before they turned to go. 

As they left, I sank into one of those excruciating waiting-room chairs, and Elena handed me a tissue. "See, he's okay," she told me. "You have proof and everything now." 

"It's just so weird to see him without a tie," I said, the tears breaking on the last word. She patted my shoulder while I tried to compose myself again. Too much tension on too little rest. A change of subject. That would help. "Elena, what's going on?" 

"Okay, if I tell you anything, you have to promise me a couple things." 

"Yes?" 

"You have to promise to kill yourself to avoid capture by the media. We'll give you cyanide tabs." 

"Elena, um..." 

"I'm sort of kidding. A little. You could also open a vein." 

"Elena...." 

"Because if you let _anything_ slip, the press secretary will get hold of you, and trust me, suicide is far preferable to what she'd do about a leak. But okay. The gunman, whose name I'm not telling you, was a member of this neo-Avalanche group. He—" 

"What?" I interrupted. 

"Means he identifies himself with them – identified, actually, since he's dead – used some of the slogans, and don't look so guilty, it wasn't _your_ idea for him to go nuts – and wanted to take down anything that remains of Shinra. Like Josh, which is just so _stupid_ since if ever there was— I'm sorry, you know all about that. I mean, he was the one who had the Mako refineries dismantled! Not to mention the collaboration, _for which he was arrested,_ so it's not like it's not— okay, yeah, sorry." 

"He's all right, though? Reeve, I mean?" 

"Yeah. He was shot in the arm, but he's been treated and now he's safely at home, which is why I'm here. He has a broken arm, but nothing too serious, and the campaign people like it, think it makes him look heroic, so that's cool, I guess. I think they said he's gone up in the polls. He was all, 'great, I get to be president because they feel sorry for me,' but it's better than losing, right? Reno's doing... things... which I probably shouldn't even have mentioned." 

"Do you think there are others besides the person who actually did the shooting?" 

"Mmph," she replied, her lips compressed. 

"Don't worry. If I'm taken prisoner I'll swallow my tongue." 

"Okay, good, but I still can't tell you any more. Listen, is there anything else you want to tell him? I'm going to see him after his parents, but we need to leave him alone so he can rest." 

"Pfft. Rest? In a hospital? They wake you up every fifteen minutes to jab you with needles just because they feel like it." 

"Okay, that may be, but we still have to follow the rules. And you could probably use some food or something. Do you have a place to stay?" 

"Oh, Lord. No, I don't. And I should probably call Kiri to give her directions about feeding my cat." 

"Here. Use my phone," she said, handing it to me, and after wondering what federal regulations I was disobeying just by holding it, I stepped outside to make the call, walking to some distance away from the building. I'd hoped there might be a sign or something, letting me know where it was okay to start using the phone, but I didn't see one. A young man was smoking, and we shared one of those tight smiles people use when they're in the same situation with a stranger. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to remember Kiri's number. Or the bar's number. It wasn't coming to me. I'd been awake for well over twenty-four hours, not counting the torturous non-sleep on the plane, and I no longer had the adrenaline to keep me going. 

"You okay?" he asked me. 

"Just trying to remember some phone numbers..." I said, trying to sound cheerful. Outside a hospital. Such a great policy. He could be waiting around while everyone he loved went through brain surgery. 

"Good news?" he asked, tentatively. 

"Yeah, he's gonna be fine," I said. "What about you?" 

"My wife's in labor. I need to go back in, but is it wrong that I'm not thinking 'the beautiful miracle of birth,' I'm thinking 'my wife's in a lot of pain and I really don't like this'? And now I'm stalling." 

"I think that's kind of normal. They say it's worth it, though," I told him, and he smiled ruefully. 

"Yeah," he agreed, grinding out the cigarette in the designated ashtray rather than on the ground. That was the first time I'd ever witnessed a smoker do anything of the sort. Then I realized I'd remembered the bar's number. 

I called it, and got Kiri's number, along with a lecture about jetlag, from Tir. It was around eleven their time; I guess the bar really is Tir's life. When I called Kiri, she assured me that she'd been up since dawn, as her brother's kids were young. "So he's okay? You sound like he's okay," she added. 

"Yeah, he is," I told her, feeling that it was more official now that I could pass on good news to someone else. I gave her directions about cat food, told her she was welcome to steal my furniture if she thought she could get it outside, provided she kept my cat alive, and accepted her offer of naming the cat. She also apologized for the way she broke the news about Rude, and after I picked on her about that we said goodbye. I poked at the phone for a bit, unable to figure out how to turn it off, and then fled back inside to ask Elena's help. She was already back in the waiting room, and as I walked in she stood, smoothing her clothes. "Ready to go?" 

"To sleep? Yes." 

"No, no, food first, then sleep. We're trying to get you on a normal schedule for here. You can stay at my place, unless you really object. I won't be in much to bother you, anyway. We've got work to do." 


	9. Hospital

A/N: Yes! Finally! I didn't mean to abandon this story for a couple of weeks; I've just had fierce writer's block. It got so bad that I couldn't write at all in my usual setting, and so pretty much this entire chapter has been composed in the margins of my class notes. This should be interesting around finals. 

Chapter Nine

  


Elena's car was nice, I noticed vaguely as I settled into the seat. I leaned my head against the window, and then jerked awake, dazed and blinking and wondering why everything was so silent. The car had stopped. Then a blast of cold air rolled over me, disorienting me further. Elena followed it in, handing me a bag that smelled of bread as she got back into the driver's seat. 

"Sandwiches," she explained. "Turkey, ham, or roast beef, you get first pick." 

"This is more than three," I said, the first detail I'd picked up. 

"Two of each." She considered me for a moment before pulling out of the parking space. "I shouldn't have wakened you." 

"No, I want food too," I protested, apparently thinking I would only get one chance at sustenance. 

The building she drove to next looked awfully familiar, and I was about to mention that when I noticed all the yellow crime scene tape and all the people in uniforms and dark suits. "Is this where he got shot?" I asked. 

"Yeah. I'm supposed to meet Reno, but hell if I know what to do with you while I go to find him. Can you promise not to wander off?" 

"I'm tired, I didn't regress to the age of three," I said, and then there was a knock at the window. She gestured at me, and I stared at her stupidly for a moment, then back at the window. That's when I recognized Reno, caught on, and rolled the window down. In my defense, I'd had a very rough day or so. 

"Okay, there's Elena," he said, looking at some space above my eyes. I guess he'd had a rough day too. "I was starting to worry you got here by yourself. 'Lena, she's not supposed to be here." 

"I know that, but my place is _not_ on the way here," she began as she bailed out of the car again. He moved away from my window as they talked, and though I watched them through the windshield, I stopped paying attention to them. I had a sandwich, and too much on my mind, and I was so tired I felt physically ill, though the food helped a bit. 

They talked for the duration of two six-inch roast beef subs, including the time it took me to extract the onions, and then he climbed into the back seat. I remembered saying hello to him. Next thing I knew, Elena was shaking my shoulder, and she and Reno, working together, steered me into the elevator in what was probably her apartment building. 

I ended up in a large leather armchair, curled up almost like a cat, although my cat often gets all four feet over his head and I wasn't about to try that while wearing shoes. They both sat on the couch, eating, and talking in a steady murmur. I was trying not to think, which meant opening my eyes every so often to force my mind off one track or another. After a while Elena got up, with much rustling of paper, and when I next looked she was leaning against the wall. She had a glass of something, and so did Reno, and it looked like there was a bottle on the coffee table. I tried to focus my eyes to identify the bottle, but the label was turned away from me, and that was as much deductive power as I felt like expending. 

"Just don't know..." one of them mumbled. 

"Think all this talking about it shit's overrated. You just suck it up and go on," another voice said, and that was clearly Reno. 

"Well, that's fine for you, but some of us deal with things differently," she retorted. 

I should have said something to Rude, I thought. I couldn't tell him I loved him, but I could have said something. Or done something. I shouldn't have just left like that. It was possible to let somebody know you cared about them without actually saying it. _Words aren't the only way to let people know what you're thinking._ Was that what I'd said? It wasn't very good advice for most circumstances. I couldn't very well molest Rude in his hospital bed. But I'd never been good at pinning my emotions down to words, either. 

"...we both know how that feels." 

"Yeah, I do. I know you're in love with him, and—" 

"I am not!" 

"Joshua..." he simpered, mockingly. 

"I'm not in love with him, dammit! It'd be a lot simpler if I _were,_ and it's none of your business anyway." 

"Okay, well, what'd you call it, then?" 

"I'd call it you being an unpleasant drunk and you owe me a bottle of vodka and an apology. And orange juice, you used up a lot of my orange juice." 

"Most of that was you, sweetheart, and I think we both know you're more drunk than me." 

I chose that moment to share. I've never been very good at timing, socially. "Rude told me he's in love with me," I said, trying to force my eyes open. They both went quiet. All I could hear was the ticking of a clock somewhere. 

Elena broke the silence first. "So what'd you say?" 

"I didn't say anything." 

"You're a cold woman, Lockhart," Reno intoned. 

"I told you never to call me that!" I complained feebly, but Elena had her own, much more vehement objection. 

"He's not entitled to have her say it! She can feel however she wants! Rude's deserving if anyone ever was, but she doesn't owe him anything! Men are such— Just because YOU have a feeling, you feel like you're entitled to put it into play and expect other people to return it or at least just deal with it and—" 

"Okay, okay. Shit. Don't have to go feminist on me." 

"Fuck you, Reno!" she yelled, and I heard a door slam. Then silence. 

"That's a really loud clock," I observed. I never heard if he replied. 

* * *

It was just getting light again when I woke, sore from the way I'd slept. Apparently I'd managed to shed my shoes at some point during the night, but I'd elected to stay curled up in the chair fully clothed for some reason. Someone had covered me with an afghan, though. When I got up, I opened doors on an empty bedroom and a linen closet before I located the bathroom. 

I didn't see Reno anywhere, though I didn't try every room, but when I went into the kitchen, I found Elena, nursing a cup of coffee. "Tifa, I am so sorry," she greeted me immediately. 

"Oh, about last night?" 

"Yeah. I mean, Reno and I always kind of fought, but not like that. I was... I guess we were both under a lot of stress." She looked up with a bright smile. "You want some coffee?" 

"Yeah, I guess so. Cream, no sugar." 

"Weird, but okay." 

"What was it all about?" I asked her, a question general enough that I was bound to get some sort of information. Especially considering the source. 

"Well, he always picked on me, ever since I was in training. Always said he was just teasing, but I'd take it seriously... this is why we only went out for, like, three weeks. Once I started my field training, Rude would kind of mediate. Like... they all go by their surnames. Mine's Samuelle, and Reno would shorten it to Sam or Sammy, and I lasted about three days before I was ready to kill him with a barbell in the company gym. I never said anything, but Rude started calling me by my first name and the other two picked it up after a while. Just things like that." She seemed to realize then that she was still monopolizing my coffee, and handed it to me. 

"Where was Tseng in all this?" I asked, genuinely curious. Aerith had known him, and I'd always sort of wondered about that. He reminded me of nothing so much as a venomous snake, but maybe he'd been different in private. 

"He'd just kind of smirk and leave us to work it out. It was a sexy smirk, but..." 

"Yeah." 

"It's just we both rely on Rude a lot more than we maybe realize. And him getting hurt was such a shock. It's usually Reno. He's so reckless anyway, plus he gets in fights just for the hell of it. Rude... doesn't. He's cautious. I mean, stubborn as a mule, won't let anyone past him, but he doesn't take risks for excitement." 

I nodded. That fit, but something else was on my mind now. "What was it about you being in love with someone?" I asked. 

It was hard to tell when Rude blushed. With Elena, there was no doubt. Her face, throat and ears were all bright pink. "I'm not in love with anyone," she said. "He thinks I have a thing for Josh Reeve, but he's my boss! I've been there and it wasn't— I mean, you don't— I mean, I want to hear more about what happened with you and Rude." 

"Oh no. Please no," I whimpered, but she pressed on. 

"He really said it?" 

"Yeah, and I couldn't just say it back, it's not like—" 

"No, I understand. But I guess that explains why he was kind of weird when I saw him next." 

I nodded miserably. I'd been hoping we could behave normally, but it stood to reason. "At least now I know how Cloud felt," I said. It had been some time after we fought Sephiroth; maybe a couple of weeks, after we'd done all they seemed to think we could do to help in the rescue effort. We got away, got a nice hotel room, and made love more for comfort than out of passion. And I told him I was in love with him. He didn't pull away, but he didn't say he loved me, either, not until nearly a month later. I remembered the way I'd felt then, when I realized he hadn't said those words, might not say them, and might be planning to let me down gently at any moment, might have thought the night before we went into the crater had been a terrible mistake. 

Or maybe he'd just been feeling confused and vaguely guilty and wishing it could be simple. 

* * *

When I walked into his room that afternoon, his whole face lit up with a smile, and I could feel the previous night's worry melting away. Elena gave me a triumphant grin and then shooed me out of the room so she could talk to him. 

"Didn't think you'd be back today," he said, when I was allowed back in. 

"I didn't spend all that money to come here and not see you, Rude," I said, quietly, as I sank into the chair. 

"Makes sense. Just meant I wouldn't have blamed you for it." He looked at his hands. "....hadn't meant to say that." 

"I'm not going to hold it against you," I said, managing to smile like I was making a joke. "I was more afraid you'd be mad at me." 

"No," he said, and he touched my cheek lightly. I grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it, held onto it with something closer to a death-grip than to romantic clinging. He didn't seem to mind, and just tugged at my arm until I got up and seated myself gingerly on the edge of the bed. "You don't seem happy," he noted. 

"Well, you managed to get yourself shot, remember? I think I'm entitled to be a little upset." He was still holding my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over my knuckles, and I found myself actually smiling a little. 

"It's gonna be okay," he said, and I looked up, finding myself staring hard at the top of his head. I got no sign from his scalp that he knew what those words meant to me, that he'd chosen them deliberately. "I lived through this. We'll work out better security. Never needed it with Shinra, that family didn't have the common touch." 

I just nodded, but there was no response, and I added "yeah," softly. 

"And we can... I mean, you can move here. If you want. Plenty of jobs. Reeve'd hire you, for one." 

"You think so?" I asked without thinking, hopeful, and he broke out in smiles again. I found myself smiling back – somehow it was hard not to, when he looked happy – and he sat forward, putting his arms around me. It couldn't have been too comfortable. I squeezed his forearm, the only part I could easily lay hands on, and managed to work my other arm around him. That's how we were when his parents came in. 

We sprung apart like a pair of guilty teenagers, though I suppose in his case the hospital gown might have had something to do with his turn for the demure. His mother chattered while arranging plants around the room, and he and his father and I talked doggedly about sports. Actually, I would talk – I like sports – and one of them would respond with a 'yup' or an 'nnn' and the other would counter with a name or a term, usually a name, and then the other would incline his head or shrug. And then one of them would say "Defense, though..." and it would start all over again. 

When his mother was done with the vegetation, the conversation turned to family issues. She ran through an exhaustive catalog of all the births and deaths and weddings that had happened to scores of people. Rude would periodically interject with a "Cousin," or "Some kind of relative, dunno," and I suppose she kept it to a minimum, because she summed up with "Everyone else is doing well and Lucas is up for parole." Fortunately I couldn't work up the nerve to ask for details immediately. "So what about your case?" she asked. 

"Mom, you know I can't tell you that. Ask Elena." 

"I know," she agreed, smiling serenely. 

He sighed heavily, but he answered. "No outside ties. Whole group's based in Midgar. One guy's from Kalm, that's as far afield as they get from what's been identified." He kept trying to catch my eye as he spoke, and I realized he was trying to let me know it wasn't Barret's doing. I tried to look grateful, but in a subtle way so his parents wouldn't wonder. "They should be making arrests now," he added. "Don't tell anyone anything." 

"Of course not, honey," she assured him. "Now we're going to go and buy Tifa here some dinner, and we'll be back to see you tomorrow." 

"Wait, what?" I asked, suddenly alarmed. They'd been very nice, but this would involve table manners and extended scrutiny, and who knew what topics of conversation. 

"We don't bite," his father said, rising from a chair. 

"Part of 'Lena's plan, she'll grab you later," Rude explained. "She forget to mention it?" 

I just nodded, neglecting to mention that I felt like someone's dry cleaning. I had no room to complain, really, since Elena was putting me up for free. I hung back while everyone bustled around, his mother gathering up the boxes that had held the plants, his dad squeezing his shoulder and then exiting the room, leaving the rest of us behind. I found the last of the boxes and a glasses case for his mother, wondering if we were supposed to run off and try to catch up with him. 

"He's bringing the car around," she volunteered without my asking. "I need to run by the ladies', so you two can have some privacy." 

He groaned "Ma!" in a way that gave me a perfect glimpse of him as an adolescent. A bald adolescent, I guess. 

"She seems nice," I said, timidly, once she was out the door. "Not that you needed my approval or anything." 

"I'm glad," he said, and he pulled me down next to him. 

"You're just determined to get me into bed with you," I teased, trying to cover how awkward I felt physically; not because I didn't want to touch him, but because I was afraid I'd do some damage somehow. 

"Uh huh. Wasn't it obvious?" 

"Well, yeah," I replied, and I leaned down to kiss him. He hadn't been shot in the mouth, after all. My teeth caught at his lip, his hand tangled in my hair, and while I wasn't exactly noticing time I did notice that, even in this setting, he still smelled and tasted exactly as he had before. When we pulled apart I smiled, and he did too, looking so happy I had to kiss him again to give myself an excuse not to see his eyes. 

"Better let you go," he murmured finally, lips grazing my cheek. 

"Yeah, I think we're upsetting your little beepy machine over there." 

"I don't know what that thing is. They told me, but I forgot." He was stroking my back, not exactly a backrub, and I was making no effort to stop him or move away. "Can't keep the folks waiting either," he added, but he didn't stop. 

"I really _really_ wish you were coming with me," I told him, but I did sit up. 

"So do I. You get to eat food with flavor in it." 

There was no arguing with that, anyway, so I just asked, "Do I look too disheveled?" 

"You look incredible." 

"That's not what I was asking, sweetie." 

"I know. Turn your head— the thing on the right. Let me." I turned my head, letting him straighten my barrette. Amazingly, he actually accomplished it without pulling my hair unduly; hair ornaments were always too much for Cloud to cope with. "Sweetie?" he asked, but I could hear from his voice that he was smiling. 

"Is that off-limits too? I can't call you cute, I can't—" 

"No, I like it." 

"You do?" 

"Uh huh. Got it. You look symmetrical." 

I leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "Pray for me," I said. 

"Think of me as you salt your entree," he retorted, and while I meant to make a face at him just before I left, I ended up just beaming at him instead. 


	10. Departure

A/N: I'm really sorry for the delay. You can blame a combination of factors, most recently graduation from college (woohoo!), before that writer's block and uncertainty about where to go with the story. I think I've got it now, though. 

Chapter Ten

  


The next day, I awoke around noon, to find Elena absorbed in a terse conversation on her PHS. She carried on while I washed my face and dressed, and in the car. She bought lunch for both of us at a restaurant near the hospital, periodically answering her phone and speaking mostly in "yeah," "no," or, once, "I swear I'll rip his head off and spit down his neck if I find him first." 

"Um. Someone connected to the shooting?" I asked, as she flipped her phone shut savagely after that one. 

"No. Reno. You ready to leave?" 

"Um, I guess?" I hadn't finished my coffee, and I still felt muddled and fuzzy around the edges. I was clearly getting soft in my old age; I used to be able to cope with weird settings. "You're still mad at him?" 

"No, I'm mad at him _again_." Somehow, she managed to make it seem as though she were slamming things while putting on a coat. "He's disappeared, I was supposed to meet with him here and no one's heard from him." 

"Did something happen to him?" I asked. 

"I _hope_ so," she snapped. Once we were in the car, she said, "The odds of him being harmed because he's a Turk are pretty low. The people who know us to target us generally don't have the nerve. If something happened to him, it's probably because he's an idiot. In which case he deserves it." 

"Okay," I agreed, just wanting her to calm down. It did no good, and she ranted all the way through the parking garage, including an interesting story about a knife fight at a gay bar. I resolved to ask Rude about it, but that resolve faltered a bit once I got to his room. 

Someone had given him back his sunglasses, and that, paired with his hospital gown, was a vision I would remember on my deathbed. I bit the inside of my lip furiously in hopes of keeping a straight face. "You think I look funny?" he greeted me, neutrally. 

"Well, not funny like _strange_," I hedged, the laughter bubbling up through my voice. He broke into a smile, which I took as permission to giggle outright. I went to sit by his bed, and that's when I noticed that the dividing curtain had been drawn across the room. "What...?" I asked vaguely, tugging at it. 

"Leave it," Reno's voice said from behind the curtain. I must have jumped, because I could hear Rude snickering behind me. 

"Elena's going to hunt you down and kill you, Reno," I informed him, pulling it back a bit and peering around it. He was stretched out on the bed with his hands folded on his stomach as if he were already dead, lying in state. 

"That's why he's hiding here," Rude explained, and Reno pulled himself wearily into a sitting position. 

"I'm not _hiding_, okay? I'm resting." 

"Right. He's lying in wait for her because he thought she'd come up with you." 

"I'm not doin' that either! I'm not— I don't plan a damn thing around her! She is completely irrelevant to my life and plans, and _furthermore_—" 

"You were supposed to meet her today for work stuff," I said, hoping either to set him off or remind him. 

I guess I reminded him. "Aww, _shit_," he growled, flinging himself off the bed. We watched, silently, as he shuffled out of the room. Rude appeared to be counting under his breath. I glanced at him quizzically. 

"Hiding from her," he said, in a low voice. 

"I am NOT!" Reno yelled back, possibly from the end of the hallway. I heard someone shushing him irritably. 

I realized I was grinning. "I had no idea _you_ ever gave _him_ grief," I said, delighted. 

"Oh yeah. Goes all around. Elena still has some trouble with it, but she's learned a lot." 

"Good for her," I said, still grinning. That faded as I thought about it. "Rude, do you know what's going on? Is it important that he—?" 

"Nothing they can't handle. 'Lena'll tear him a new one, but he's overdue for that anyway." He seemed to be deciding whether to pat my knee or my hand comfortingly, and he settled on my hand. "Don't worry." 

"Okay," I agreed. I guess I had as much reason as anyone had to doubt the competence of the Turks to deal with a small antigovernment faction, but now that I was on their side I didn't want to dwell on that. 

"How was dinner?" he asked, changing the subject, and I made a face just to see how he'd react. He didn't. 

"Well, the service could have been better, but the food was good. Especially the pasta." He just looked at me, lowering the shades so I could see his level stare over them. "Okay, okay. It... wasn't excruciating. I mean, I was petrified, but your parents seem really nice and your mom seems like she's used to talking for three, so that helped. And they didn't threaten my life to keep me away from you or anything." 

"Did you think they would?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

"Well, they could. I don't know that I'd want my son involved with someone like me. A depressive former terrorist who can't cut a steak properly and who gets mistaken for a hooker whenever she wears a miniskirt?" 

"You're depressed? Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I just meant in general. Not right now." I waited for him to say something about the last part of that, but he didn't, so I folded my arms and sat back in a huff. 

"You don't look like a hooker," he monotoned, and when I glared at him, I realized he was smiling. "Not that I'd mind if you dressed like it." 

I thought about that. "Hey! Did you just say I'm not sexy?" 

"Never. No matter what you wear. But, y'know, there's the way you act, too. Anyone who looks at you twice would get the hint. Just wishful thinking if they don't." 

"So I look trashy at first glance?" I persisted. 

"No!" he said, looking a bit persecuted. 

"Would you want me to go back to dressing like that? Tiny little skirts or shorts?" 

"Be a bit drafty this time of year," he pointed out. 

"You know what I mean." 

"Lockhart, sometimes I just say things. I don't always have some deeper meaning." 

* * *

I spent most of that week at his side, watching the truly boring TV that played during visiting hours, talking, eventually playing cards once Elena suggested bringing them. I was never good at that, and he even beat me at the ridiculous, skill-free kiddie games we were playing. His parents would stop in every day, talk for a little while, and then, as his mom always teased us, "leave us alone." 

"They hate me," I announced, on the fifth day, shortly after they'd gone. 

"They do not!" 

"They never want to be around when I'm around!" 

"That's not it at all!" he retorted, as heatedly as he'd ever said anything. "They... okay, I know my folks. They just don't want to seem like they're trying to chase you off. They don't know you're paranoid." 

"I'm not paranoid!" I insisted. "I just feel bad, like _I'm_ chasing _them_ off, and they're your parents, you should get to see them, and it's hard not to draw conclusions, and... would you hate me if I deserted you tomorrow when they come in?" 

He said he wouldn't, so that's what I did the next day. I smiled at them and shook their hands and then went out and took a train up to the plate. The hospital, like most of the new Midgar, was built outside the bounds of the old one, but on the ground; trains, though, still ran the circuit. I guess rails and supports are easy to repair, or maybe people just think they're the most important. We were coming up on New Year's, and I admit I was thankful to be away from the bar for that. I'd forgotten, though, how much I liked the Midgar plate. Though it wasn't really considered safe for settlement – too unstable – people had moved back there anyway and tried to recreate the luxury it had once offered. 

And I was willing enough to accept the illusion. It was just a matter of only seeing the gleaming glass, the clothes on display, not looking past it to tangled metal and the smokestacks of the power plants below. You could really only see the ruins from around the edges of the plate, anyway. It had only been four years, a little more, really, and I couldn't forget, but I just wanted to enjoy myself there. I'd never been able to, before; I could rarely even afford the tickets up to window shop. I'd kept up a pose of not wanting that anyway, but I'd been aware that was really all it was. Now, I could afford to buy shoes, and did, feeling ridiculously extravagant. 

Outside again, shivering against the biting wind, I heard someone calling my name. When I turned I almost didn't recognize him. His hair still went every which way, though it was much shorter now and more mobile, blowing around in the wind as a train passed overhead. "Cloud?" I called back, incredulous. 

"Yeah! I wasn't sure it was you at first," he shouted over the roar of the train, but the last few words came out loud after the noise had faded. He winced comically, and I grinned at him as he made his way against the flow of the crowd to join me. I jerked my head in the direction of a store's vestibule, and we headed over there, jostled by the crowd. "What are you doing here?" he asked, putting the emphasis on 'doing' rather than 'you' so the question could come out friendly. "I mean..." 

"No, I understand," I said. "I mean, a year with no word, and then just to run into you here. Just a weird coincidence, I didn't realize— well, I knew you were living around here, but I hadn't thought I could possibly run into you." 

"Yeah, I work up here, I live out... somewhere. I dunno, west, I think." He waved his arm vaguely towards the south, and I stifled a grin. "Hey, are you doing okay? I mean, you look great, but— well, I heard you moved, and you dropped out of touch with everybody, so I had no way of finding anything out without hiring a detective or something creepy." 

Well, that had been the idea. I hadn't wanted him, or anyone, to see me being unhappy, even though they knew as well as I did that it was inevitable. I hadn't wanted to see him being unhappy, either, or hear about it, because I knew it would be way too easy to fall back together, even though I also knew it wouldn't work. "I moved to Junon," I said. "I'm doing fine, really. Met new people... I'm not just huddling." 

"Yeah, I should have figured. I was just a bit worried. I mean, I know how I did, but with you away from all our friends... it was rough even with them, so I... worried," he finished, lamely. 

"Well... I understand, but... so how are you doing? Why'd you give away the ranch? To _Vincent_?" 

"I didn't give it to him outright, but he owns the majority now and I'm retired from racing. I just didn't feel like keeping it up anymore, I've got enough money to last me a while anyway. And I figured it'd do him good to get out in the sunlight, you know? Spend time with living things?" 

"Yeah, it couldn't hurt," I agreed, and he opened the door for me. We stepped inside, into warmth and piped-in string music and the wafting of scents from a perfume counter. 

"And I wanted to take some time off, actually get some education. It's been years, you know? That's why I'm here." 

So he wouldn't let me avoid the question. Just as well. I had to tell him, so he wouldn't get the wrong idea, and I wanted to tell him. I just didn't want to see his response. A phone call would have been ideal. "I'm here to visit Rude," I said, and he blinked at me. 

"The Turk? I saw he got shot, but why are you...?" I just looked at him. "You're friends with him? How'd that happen?" 

"They... he was in Junon for a while," I said, cutting myself off as I realized the connections to organized crime might not be something they wanted known. And it couldn't help Reeve. "I ran into him and we started talking, we, uh, we're kind of seeing each other." 

I waited, a breath, to see how he'd react, but he just smiled and said, "Whoa. So I guess that means he does talk sometimes." 

"Yeah. He even takes off his sunglasses occasionally. Willingly." 

"Well, that's... as long as it all works out, you know, and you're happy. He seemed kind of quiet and creepy, but then, you're kind of quiet too, so that wouldn't bother you so much." 

"I'm creepy?" I huffed, teasing. I felt giddy. He hadn't informed me I'd lost my mind, or gotten angry, or begged me to take him back. If he felt weird about it, he was keeping it to himself. This was just about all I could have hoped for. 

"No, no, I meant— now that's not fair, don't give me that look. You're not creepy. And you're a pretty good judge of people, better than me, so I'll take your word for it on them. Their job kinda.... but I guess it's a job, not a hobby, right?" 

"Right. For him, I mean, I can't vouch for the other two so much, but Elena seems okay..." 

"Yeah," he agreed, quietly. "It's, uh, it's good you're happy. You seem really happy." 

"Cloud, you don't... mind? This doesn't count as rubbing your face in it, does it?" 

"No! No, I... well, I'm seeing other people too, so I'd have to be a huge hypocrite to take offense, right? It's weird to... not be together, but I'm just glad we're— even's not the word I want. On the same page? I think I just turned into my boss." 

"I know what you mean, though. Well, good!" I said, and while I might have sounded false, too happy, I realized the image of him with someone else didn't bother me. I wasn't going to pry about how long it had taken him to get there, or who he meant, but the idea itself didn't hurt. "I'm going to go buy something, want to help me?" 

I ended up buying a ludicrously expensive bottle of perfume, which would about clean out my leisure spending for the foreseeable future. It was called Seventh Heaven, though, so I could hardly pass it up, and Cloud assured me it smelled nice to male nostrils. That evening, back at Elena's apartment, I watched her cautiously – she'd been griping about Reno again that morning, so I wanted to be careful in case she snapped – then finally threw caution to the winds and asked her for advice. 

"Why are you asking me? Do you _know_ what my love life is like?" Elena demanded. 

"Um, no?" 

"Well, fine. Okay, I would say don't bother telling Rude about it. It's not like you're about to run off with Cloud, right?" I shook my head vehemently. "And you didn't even kiss him by accident or anything, so unless you just _want_ to play mind games, I'd say keep it to yourself." She poured some alcohol into a can of soda, took a drink and made a face. "Works better with bottles," she added, half to herself. 

"I don't want to play mind games, but I don't want to keep secrets from him either! You're drinking more lately." 

"I discovered the miracle of adding booze to soft drinks, and I'm under a lot of pressure right now. Tastes way better than what the guys were giving me. It's not keeping a secret, it's just not mentioning something. Do you give him an itemized list of what you had for breakfast every day?" 

"Well, no, but...." But I wanted to be friends with Cloud without having to hide it from Rude. 

"Seriously. Just let it go." 

I couldn't resist wearing my new scent the next day when I went to visit him, though. He noticed, grabbed my arm and made a show of sniffing my wrist; I took that opportunity to try to get his sunglasses, and we ended up wrestling in bed. It was very embarassing when the nurse came in, but I took that opportunity to pluck them off his face and then retreat decorously back to my chair. He gave me a piteous look while the nurse grinned at us both, then made a grab for them once she was gone. 

"No," I said, as if scolding a puppy, while holding them out of his reach. "They look silly indoors with a hospital gown." 

"I _like_ looking silly," he protested. 

"No you don't," I reminded him. 

"You smell nice, though," he said, changing the subject, and I smiled and smiled replied easily, "New perfume. Cloud helped me pick it out." 

"Well... good?" he said, tentatively. No anger, no repressed hurt that I could see. I almost beamed with relief, because a couple of hours' shopping with Cloud certainly wasn't worth a fight with Rude. Maybe Elena had been right, and I shouldn't have mentioned it at all, but I'd had my fill of keeping things to myself. 

"I guess so. I mean, I'd missed having him as a friend." 

"How'd you run into him?" Rude asked, completely neutral. 

I shrugged. "I just did. I was out shopping and he spotted me. I think I might have made him ditch work or something, now that I think about it." 

"How'd he react?" 

"How do you mean? He just said hi, we were talking, catching up." 

"Still in love with you?" he asked. 

"Oh, I don't know... I wouldn't think so, it's been well over a year. I hope not." I was beginning to feel interrogated, but I guess that shouldn't have come as a surprise given how I'd dropped the news into conversation. 

"So you're not still in love with him." 

"God no! I'm with you now, remember? He's my ex for a reason, Rude." 

"Hmm," he said, but he seemed satisfied. "Okay." 

"Well, glad you approve," I replied, sarcastic, but since that had in fact been my concern it came out a bit half-hearted. "I'd kind of like to get back in touch with him, but I forgot to get his phone number and I don't know if he wrote down mine. I guess that wouldn't do much good anyway, if I'm going to move here." 

"You think you are? Thought you might, uh— wasn't sure you were thinking about it seriously." He wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was some kind of life in his eyes, possibly hope. Or maybe dread. It _was_ a bit early in the relationship for transcontinental moves, all half-drugged declarations of love aside. And he might even think I wanted to move in with him, a level of commitment I didn't feel ready for, no matter what he thought of it. 

"I think I really might. The city looks a lot better than it did last time I was within sight of it, and I'd just as soon get back out of Junon. Is that, uh—" I looked at him, then, and broke off in the middle of the question because from the way he was beaming I could tell that, no, he had no problem at all with this plan. No need even to ask. "How am I going to find an apartment?" I added. 

"I can find one. Or Elena. Take you a while to get everything packed anyway, right?" 

"Oh yeah. I have so much _stuff_ – compensating for years of not having much, I guess. And I can never bear to throw it all out, so every time I move I take it all with me. What's the best way to get things over— oh, I'll work on the planning for this later, I guess." 

"Ask 'Lena. She did all the arranging for us. We just threw things in boxes, she made the plans." 

"I'll do that," I agreed, and he gently removed the sunglasses from my hands. I pouted, and he set them on the bed, on the far side from me. 

"You have to leave soon, don't you?" he asked, and I nodded, mute. 

"Tomorrow," I said, after a long moment. "My flight leaves at eight tomorrow morning." 

"But you'll be back eventually," he said. 

"Yeah. For good, I guess. I mean, long-term, not..." He just smiled, and laced his fingers through mine. I squeezed his hand, didn't say anything more. Eventually, we broke the silence, chatted with a nurse, talked about the TV, but we didn't discuss my departure again, even when I kissed him goodbye that evening and went out to catch a cab back to Elena's. I was just as happy to skip the dramatic goodbyes; it wasn't like it ever made being apart any easier. 


	11. Junon Again

Chapter Eleven

  


Kiri actually met me at the airport, to my shock, and while I didn't think my gossip was juicy enough to provide sufficient reward, she was pleased with my news of running into Cloud and more than happy to dissect the story of that afternoon with me. I refused to talk about Rude in any detail, however. I didn't like discussing my current relationships, and never had. 

She had decided to name my cat Elvis after some popular singer she liked. I sighed, and tried to call him that, but it didn't quite seem to stick. My cat punished me for leaving, or possibly for returning, by sharpening his claws on my bed while I was sleeping in it, and attempting to sleep on my head for the first few nights. Tir did nothing in particular to punish me, but I had punishment enough with jetlag and the knowledge that I'd used up my vacation time. Which I'd been expecting, but it would have been nice to use it to house-hunt in Midgar and visit Rude when he was healthy. 

I'd decided more firmly than ever to move to Midgar after all. The first time we'd discussed it had been an impulse, the second I'd been considering it seriously, but now I was determined. I didn't want to examine my feelings too closely, but I'd started missing him the minute I stepped off the plane in Junon. It was ridiculous. We'd been apart around a day, by my reckoning of time, and before that it had been three weeks. And it wasn't like I'd been expecting to see him in Junon. Maybe it was just that stepping off the plane put me solidly away from him, or that I couldn't stay in as close contact with him while he was in the hospital. 

He was released not that long afterwards, which meant we were back to phone conversations. Better than nothing, but I missed the physical contact more than I had before this visit. "Too much time with you in a bed," I told him, regarding my frustrations. "When can you visit?" 

"Quit your job," he suggested. "Move here right now." 

That wasn't really an option, but I started working on my resumé the next day. A desk job would be nice; less time on my feet, regular hours, and fewer drunks. Ideally none, but I wasn't going to count on that. Tir had never really hired another bouncer, so I got to take care of any trouble. It wasn't as bad as it had been in the Seventh Heaven, but I was ready to get away from all that. 

After a week or two, I heard from Cloud as well. Even if I'd been clinging to hope, which I hadn't, the first long phone call would have convinced me that we were simply in different places in life. Half the words out of his mouth made no sense at all to me, or came in a context I didn't follow. He seemed very irritable about a change in the core courses, though I couldn't figure out precisely why and his explanation, something to do with elective hours and the school of engineering, didn't clear anything up. 

He did, however, mention Yuffie's name in passing, in reference to something else about elective hours. "Wait, back up," I said. 

"Tifa, I already tried to explain, you were just tuning me out, and I don't blame you because it's boring—" 

"No, I meant about Yuffie. Last I heard she was running some scuba thing around Costa del Sol and ripping off the tourists something awful." And probably using it all to buy black-market materia. Of course, I'd last spoken to her a year ago. 

"Oh. Yeah, she's here. I ran into her at the bookstore at the beginning of the year – I think she's actually way ahead of me in credit hours, but then I've had to do some remedial crap." 

"Huh? Why?" 

"Tifa, I never even finished geometry!" 

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Still, it doesn't seem fair after all you went through and all that time, though." 

"Well, none of that actually helps me know how to do a proof..." he said, his voice indicating clearly that he was shrugging. 

"What about Yuffie? Why's she bothering with college? Normally she likes things that let her _get_ money, not give it away." 

There was a pause, then he said, "I just shrugged. You couldn't see it, but I did. I dunno, I think she just gets bored. And this gives her something to do that her dad will accept." 

"He doesn't mind her being educated in Midgar?" 

"He probably does. The question is if she cares." 

I could guess the answer to that one. "So, make up your mind. Or her mind. Why pick something he'd accept, and then pick the one way of doing it that he'll like least?" 

"Hell, I don't know. I'm just repeating stuff she told me." There was a pause. "I think maybe he's not doing so well, and she's trying to... go easy on him, a little. Not too much, because this is Yuffie here." 

"Then why not go and actually spend time with him, if he's sick, or—" 

"I swear, I have no insight into the way her mind works," he said. "She doesn't like talking about herself much, anyway." 

"Are you kidding?" 

"About _herself._ She likes talking just fine, but not about herself, that's all. I didn't notice it either till this year." 

"Huh. Well, okay." 

"So how are things going with you?" he asked, finally. "Sorry, just they changed the requirements on me and no one around here wants to listen to me gripe anymore. You get to talk my ear off next time." 

"I understand," I said, lying through my teeth because I hadn't understood a word of it. I'd understood that he was frustrated. "I'm... fine. Things are good. I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk your ear off." 

* * *

Rude showed no further signs of jealousy of Cloud. I didn't go out of my way to mention either guy to the other, but I didn't try to avoid it, either. I was fairly certain that tiptoeing around either of them couldn't lead to anything good. My time dragged, and I seemed to spend most of it waiting for phone calls. I started spending more time with Kiri outside of work, which helped. We were in the armpit of winter, now, easily my least favorite time of year. "Not even any holidays to look forward to," I grumbled to Kiri, one day, as we were closing. 

"Well, there's Florian's Day," she said. "That's in... wow, just two weeks." 

"He's not even a real saint!" I said. "I bet they made him up just to sell candy and jewelry." But there wasn't much passion behind the complaint, because I was thinking about something else. A month had passed since the shooting. It was kind of hard to believe, in retrospect; time had seemed to pass so slowly at the time. Rude and I had almost been together long enough to justify the degree of seriousness we'd reached early. That was comforting. I'd felt, at first, as though I'd rushed into things, maybe for the wrong reasons, and that wouldn't have been fair to him. 

"Well, yeah. No one calls him a saint anymore anyway. When I was little I thought it was named after the flowers," she said. "And I thought it was weird because they're not in season in winter." 

"Oh. You were one of those kids with a big vocabulary." 

"How do they grow them, anyway? Greenhouses?" she asked. I nodded, though I wasn't totally sure either. "I don't see why you'd have a problem with it," she continued. "You have a boyfriend." 

"Yeah, and he's eight hours away from me by plane! Five hours. Twelve. I don't know, a long way. Through a time warp." 

"He'll call, though. Send flowers or something. Maybe he'll arrange to have some of your enemies killed." 

"Yeah, like that old guy who never thinks his martinis are dry enough. But they're law-abiding now." More or less. Someone connected to the shooting had been killed while resisting arrest. Reno was facing an internal hearing, a subject Rude refused to discuss in any way. "I just think it's kind of silly. Why can't guys be romantic the rest of the year?" 

"I think some of them need the kickstart just for the annual thing. And one of my exes _still_ managed to forget! And he worked in retail! I swear he was just trying to force me to dump him. Anyway. Rude's not exactly the king of romance anyway, is he?" 

"Well, no, not exactly. I mean, not in a bad way..." It didn't bother me in him, at least. Not yet. Of course, there'd been a time that I melted whenever Cloud said 'I love you,' a phrase that later turned almost meaningless, that he tried to use as the panacea whenever we'd had a fight. Of course, I couldn't see Rude doing that. "He's just sweet, not, you know, not all... demonstrative." 

"I'm sure he'll get you something," she said reassuringly. "Unless you make a big deal about hating the holiday." 

"Well, I don't _like_ it," I protested. I said more or less the same thing that night on the phone. 

"Why not?" Rude asked. "Manufactured holiday, reinforcing gender stereotypes?" 

"Huh?" 

"Elena hates it too." 

"Oh. No, I just don't like being alone and feeling like I'm supposed to be having a candlelight dinner and enjoying it. And I don't much care for the fancy lingerie, either. Though maybe I should hate it for the other reason." 

"You don't have to," he said. "I think Elena's actually bitter— ow!" 

In the background, I could hear her saying, "I'm _bitter_ because no one ever gives me _guns_ for Florian's! Or computer stuff or anything else I want! Like I give a crap about some flowers!" 

"Tell her to stop hitting you," I ordered him. "And apologize for the bitter thing." 

"Tifa says stop hitting me," I heard him say, somewhat muffled. I didn't hear her reply. "And I'm sorry," he added. 

"You guys still rooming together?" I asked, on the assumption that he wasn't still listening to her. 

"No, she's here to type a report. Claims her printer's broken, but she knows how to fix it. Wants to drag me out drinking. Worse than Reno." 

"How's his thing going?" I asked. 

"You know, you don't have to worry about lingerie," he said. "Naked's fine by me." I could only imagine what Elena thought I'd said to cause that change of subject. 

He never did ask me what I wanted for Florian's, but I didn't worry about it. He was bound to come up with something, and it really was the the thought that counted with me; I didn't have anything specific in mind. Realizing I'd get to see him again sooner or later, even if it was only when I moved to Midgar, I went out and bought a silk nightgown. It was probably too long and opaque to really count as lingerie, but I was pretty sure it would serve my purposes, and it felt nice. 

Elena had been sending me photos of apartments for some time. Finally I got her number from Rude and called her to ask why she was the one doing this. "Well, he's going to look at them too, but he doesn't seem to realize you can't just take his word on it. Especially since his word is usually 'It was nice. Looked clean,'" she said, mimicking his inflections well enough to make me laugh. "We can lease one for you any day now, or... you know, if you didn't feel like it was too much commitment, I'm sure he'd be happy to have you move in with him." 

"Don't I need a job first?" 

"Well, send out your resume! Reeve can get you hired just about wherever you want. Or we can find you a job in the administration." 

"Thinking positively," I noted, and she laughed a little. "I... jeez, I don't even know what I can do. Technically the Seventh Heaven never existed, there's no documentation – never was on most of those slum businesses. I just moved into an empty building and we fixed it up, had Jessie do the wiring..." Of course, I'd owned the Final Heaven outright. I suppose that amounted to something, but what? I didn't exactly have any references for that time. 

"You can learn. You can learn to type, you can learn to work with computers, you can learn to shoot people in the head... So from your not answering I take it you don't want to move in with him?" 

"I...." _Don't want another relationship to fall apart under the strain of daily life._ "Cloud and I had problems because of it, so I'd just as soon not live with anyone else again until I'm married. You know, so we'll have more reasons not to break up." 

"Like lawyers," she agreed. "Makes some sense. You know, there should be an opening on the Turks soon. You interested? You'd look cute in the suit." 

"Are they going to fire Reno?" I asked. 

"No, I'm resigning." 

I blinked. It had always seemed to mean so much to her. "Elena, why?" 

"Well... it's not quite like it used to be, you know, just the three of us? The Turks now, we have nearly a dozen, plus all the other branches of the secret service and intelligence. And... I don't know, I just want to be free to do my own thing." 

"Is this about Reeve?" I finally asked, after a second's hesitation. The probable future president couldn't exactly date an employee openly, and there was probably some problem with a bodyguard dating her responsibility, too. 

"Not _just_ him," she said. "I always wanted to work with computers, too. I also always wanted to be a ballerina, but I don't think that's gonna work out as well." 

"Yeah. Well... it's what you want to do, right? If you never take a chance, you'll end up regretting it." 

"Yeah. So, get to work on finding a job, choose your apartment, and we can get you here whenever." 

"We?" I asked. 

"Tifa, I have an eighty percent approval rating, I think I can probably get you hired somewhere if you move here without a job," Reeve called out in the background. 

"Ahhhh, I see," I said, gleefully, whatever that meant. She could easily have been at work – it was her cell phone. Or they might have been having dinner together, which of course was what I liked to think. 

"Oh, _shut up,_" she said happily, and I laughed and said goodbye to her. 

* * *

I could not figure out how to turn items like "Owned own business; used to roughing up winos" into an asset on my resume, so I decided to let that wait until I was in Midgar and instead asked Rude to lease me an apartment in a building called the Bifrost. He said "nnn," so I suggested the Typon Towers instead, and he seemed more amenable to that. Later I found out from Elena that he'd been choosing both for closeness to his place, and distance from old Midgar; he had his worries about plate stability, too. 

Florian's Day came and went with no word, no card, and no flowers. I tried not to mind, but I didn't call Rude that night at the usual time. He called me, and acted perfectly normal. I concluded he'd forgotten, and continued trying not to mind, since I'd already said I didn't like it and so it'd be silly to make a scene. 

It was about two days later that Kiri and I used a coinciding day off to go in and get our paychecks. "Oh, there she is," I heard Sally saying, and then I spotted him, turning and reaching up to take off his sunglasses. 

I guess I jumped, because I ended up with my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, and thank heaven I was wearing pants. He kissed me somehow – which was really pretty impressive because with the momentum involved it was just lucky we didn't smack into each other face-first – and managed to keep from dropping me, though I had a fair hand in that, too. I heard laughter, and a wolf-whistle that I figured was probably Kiri. Rude was grinning, or so I figured from the crinkling around his eyes, and our noses were brushing. "Sorry it's a bit late," he said, too low for anyone else to hear. "Miss me?" 

"Oh hell yeah," I said happily, and kissed him deeply. When we surfaced for air I let myself down, collected my paycheck amidst much teasing, and dragged him out by the arm. He wasn't smiling much, but I could tell he was happy all the same. I was grinning enough for both of us anyway. 

"Where are we going?" he asked, once we were outside. 

"My place," I said, wondering why he was even asking. 

"Uh. I was going to get a hotel room." 

"Well, we can do that too if you'd rather." 

"Oh," he said, quietly, and I turned to beam over my shoulder at him. The slack surprise in his face shifted into something else, or probably several somethings. "I'll have to, uh, to buy, uh..." 

"You came all this way and weren't counting on me wanting to sleep with you?" 

"Seemed like a bit much to hope for..." he said, seeming embarrassed. 

"You are so weird," I said affectionately. "Okay, go buy that and I'll put a bottle of wine on to chill or something." 

"Gotta get you home first," he said, stubborn. 

I opened my mouth to argue, then went to his side and took his hand. Our fingers laced together, I looked at his tie and said "I love you. I just wanted to say that before I got to the wine, so you'd... know. And so you wouldn't think I was just saying it, I mean..." I trailed off, trying to find the right words, but then he lifted my chin and took a long look at me before he kissed me, so I figured it didn't matter. I was pretty sure it all showed in my face. 


	12. Conclusion

Chapter Twelve

  


We didn't really need the wine I'd left chilling in the fridge, since we both already knew what we had in mind, but we both downed a glass to handle some nervousness. We probably wouldn't have had any at all, if I hadn't thrown in the silk shift or nightie or whatever it was, and the candles, thereby turning this into a big deal on some level. But he did appreciate the silk item, whatever I chose to call it, though he didn't seem inclined to leave it on me for long. 

_"Ggk. Why don't you let me take off the tie?"_

_"Well eventually I have to learn how to get them off you, unless you're planning a change of uniform, and obviously that way didn't work, so I'll just try this."_

_"Some would say men need to learn how to cope with bras, too, but I know my limitations."_

He had a tattoo. Two of them, actually. The one on his arm was a Shinra logo, and he had what looked to be a dragon on his back, but I didn't get much of a look at it. I decided I'd have to give him a backrub later and get details on his misspent youth. 

_"I understand how you feel about it, but can we discuss it later?"_

_"Okay, but... seriously. A company logo? I mean, Shinra aside... I know you guys were serious about your jobs, but a_ tattoo?" 

_"Lockhart, don't. Please. Later. Okay?"_

_"It's just... I mean, what were you_ on?" 

_"Will you let it go if I say it was Reno's idea of a hazing ritual?"_

_"Yeah, that'd explain a lot."_

We were both masses of scars. One, a set of four long parallel marks on the lower part of his chest, almost invisible but obvious to the touch, I'd probably given to him. I tried not to look at it. He noticed the long diagonal on my chest, of course, and traced it lightly. "Sephiroth," I explained, and he nodded, kissed my earlobe, the inside of my wrist, the faint beginnings of the scar at my collarbone, and I let my fingers linger at the one I'd given him. 

_"Ow!"_

_"What? What'd I do?"_

_"You're on my hair!"_

_"Oh. Sorry."_

Once we worked out positioning, he also appreciated my hair. I'd meant to pull it back, since when I got sweaty it'd stick to me and itch, but it was worth leaving it loose it for the look in his eyes while it fell around us. It did itch, though. 

There was something like reverence when he looked at me and touched me, an intensity that surprised and slightly frightened me, hovering behind the jokes and awkwardness and all too visible when we both turned serious. I tried smiling at him, and the look on his face in response hit me almost like a blow, the realization that he loved me more visceral than words could make it. I kissed him so I could close my eyes, kept them closed. 

I'd wanted to settle into contentment, curl up in love like a comfortable armchair, but when I got my turn in the bathroom afterwards, I just found myself staring at myself in the mirror – still kind of flushed, some whisker burn, a bite mark on my collarbone – and listening to the thoughts bang around in my head for so long that he finally knocked and asked "You doing okay in there?" 

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head and going out to meet him. "Sorry." 

"What's wrong?" he asked, as I flipped the bathroom light off. 

I hoped he couldn't see me any better than I could see him. "I just..." My voice caught, and I felt like an idiot even before I started to speak the words. "I could just hit myself for ever trying to kill you." 

He sounded bewildered, and looked it, as my eyes adjusted to the dark. "Well, uh, that was a long time ago." 

"Yeah," I said, and it came out a bit like a sob. I sat despondently on the side of the bed. 

"I forgive you?" he said, and attempted to touch my face – he overshot a little, landed his hand on my ear instead, but then he got his bearings and managed to kneel in front of me, put his hands on my shoulders. "If I were you I'd have tried to kill me too. I mean, we were following you around, trying to kidnap your friend, all that." 

"But you weren't trying to kill us! Just stop us or whatever, steer us in the right direction. Until that last part, and then you just told us and let us go, and—" 

"Well, yeah, but you were a lot prettier than me." He sat next to me, tried putting his arms around me. I leaned against him, feeling my throat tighten. I hadn't expected floods of emotion like this, had thought maybe I'd outgrown them, left them behind with obsessive love I'd had for Cloud. The happy kinds were okay, but leave it to me to get depressed after sex. "Tifa?" he prompted, and I wrapped my arms around him. 

"Just hold me, okay?" I finally said, trying to keep my voice steady. 

"....Sounds like a plan," he said, softly. 

* * *

We did shift around enough that we were both lying down, which was more comfortable for me though I guess he was at risk of his arm falling asleep. Somehow, we both managed to fall asleep entangled like that, but I woke when he tried to extricate himself. "Just need some water," he explained, and I made some noise of acknowledgment. Without even reaching full consciousness, I'd managed to steal all the covers and doze off again by the time he came back. 

I woke to some tugging, and his voice saying, "No wonder you don't want to move in with me. Just can't stand to share the bed." 

"Damn straight," I replied, grumpy and trying to cling to the covers. "It's your fault I'm cold." 

"It is?" 

"Yeah, I wouldn't be naked if you weren't here." He'd managed to get a little bit of sheet, enough to climb under it. I gave up a few inches of quilt, grudgingly. 

"I guess I can't put my feet on your legs, then." 

"I'll go back to trying to kill you if you do that." 

He was actually nice enough not to warm his feet on me. I considered telling him that just for that I'd have to stay with him forever, but I managed to drift off again before I got around to saying it. 

I woke again at three in the morning, by my bedside clock. My cat was curled in the crook of my legs, but no Rude. I heard voices in the living room and muzzily concluded he'd invited the other Turks over. By the time I pulled on a shirt I realized it was the TV. I pulled on a pair of loose pants, too, the kind I used to use to fight and now wore as pajamas. "What's going on?" I called, quiet for no good reason. 

"Election coverage," he called back. 

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that," I said, coming out to join him. My cat galloped after me, pulled ahead at the entry into the living room and stopped dead, almost tripping me. I stumbled but managed not to step on him, and he began washing his face with a smug air. 

I plopped down on the couch next to Rude, and he slid his arm around my waist. "Didn't have to get all dressed," he said. He was just wearing boxers, and I was not about to complain. I might have fallen slightly out of shape, but he looked like he was still at his fighting weight, and it looked good on him. 

"I was cold. Should have gotten socks," I said, and pulled my feet up under myself. "Speaking of clothes, didn't you bring any luggage?" 

"It's at the hotel," he said. "Left it there before I went looking for you. I'll get it tomorrow." 

"Just checking. How's the election going?" 

"The blue's Reeve, the white's for Serval," he said, indicating the map on the screen with his head. I squinted, the lights still hurting my eyes. The map was mostly blue. 

"What's the black for?" 

"Not done reporting. Should be done soon, it's... what, ten there? Left my watch in the bedroom." 

"About ten, I think. Nine, ten, eleven, something like that. I knew this when you were in the hospital. Why don't you need to be guarding him?" I asked. "Not that I don't like having you here, but it seems like the time to keep an eye on him, doesn't it?" 

"Everyone needs a day off sometimes. I had this one requested months in advance. Right after we went back." He wrapped his arms around me, tugged me half onto his lap. 

"Why?" 

"Was hoping we'd still be together so we could spend Florian's together. Didn't get the date exactly right, is all." 

"Oh, that's so sweet! I forgive you about forgetting it, then." I scootched the rest of the way onto his lap, slipped an arm around his neck. There was light stubble at the back of his head, and I rubbed it, fascinated. "Feels like sandpaper. I could file my nails on you." 

"Please don't. I won't forget it again." 

"We aren't talking claws, here. Have you noticed my fingernails? Stubby little things." 

"You did enough damage to my back." 

"Did I really?" I peered over his shoulder, and he leaned away from the couch obligingly. "You wimp. I didn't even break the skin." 

"Do you normally?" 

"What do you mean normally? I don't get out much, remember?" I hadn't slept with anyone since Cloud. Something told me I should stay away from that revelation. "I just figured there'd be some major gouges if you're complaining about it." 

"Ssh," he said, and seemed to be paying intent attention to the TV, though as far as I could tell nothing new was showing. Just some announcer with a bad toupee. He probably just wanted me to stop picking on him. The map showed again. 

"Why are those four in a chunk there white?" I asked, figuring he could shush me again if he needed to, and slightly offended that they'd vote against Reeve. Just then it switched over to a bunch of lists – prefecture names – over a background of the Asgard flag. With percentages. Which, it looked like, were heavily in Reeve's favor, though I yawned, relaxed against Rude's chest, and decided not to read them all. 

"Sectors three, four, five, and six. Reeve's said he'd evacuate the residents until the plate's stabilized there. They don't like that much. He's right, though," he added. 

"Good that you're loyal," I said, nuzzling into his neck. "Is this a winner-take-all thing?" 

"No, they're just showing majorities." His hand was on my side, slightly under my shirt, just rubbing the skin absently. I kissed his neck, and the hand travelled higher. 

"Okay, no groping, Reeve's looking at us," I said. It looked like footage from the campaign, with an announcer speaking over it. 

"You started it. You do know TVs aren't two-way, right?" 

"Yeah, but... eyes. It's creepy." He pulled back a bit, quirked an eyebrow at me. "It is!" I insisted. "I don't like magazines in the bathroom, either." 

"Do a lot of drugs, Lockhart?" he asked, and then we were seeing the tape from the shooting, and I wrapped my arms tighter around him. "I manage to look terrible on camera even when I'm taking a bullet for the boss," he said. 

"That's _not_ funny," I said, and rested my head on his chest where I could hear his heartbeat. He just held onto me. He's good at that. We sat in silence for quite a while. 

"What was Asgard doing for a government up to now?" I asked, finally, just trying to break the silence. 

"You _lived_ there, Lockhart." 

"That doesn't mean I kept up with the news." 

"I— hey, wait." 

"They just said something about conceding, didn't they?" I asked, and he just nodded, sat forward as best he could with me in the way. 

The anchors started droning, and I got up to get a drink of water. Rude barely seemed to notice, but he was sitting forward a bit more when I came back. Elvis had hopped up next to him and was giving himself a very thorough bath. I sat down at a slight distance from them both. Reeve was giving some sort of speech – I caught something about "as president" and grinned broadly – and Rude reached over without looking, fumbled for a second until his hand landed on my knee, and squeezed triumphantly, or reassuringly, something like that. I covered his hand with mine, then leaned my head against the back of the couch and just watched him look happy. It's amazing how much a perfectly ordinary face can come to mean to you in really not much time at all. 

I wasn't _not_ paying attention to Reeve, but I wasn't really listening, either, so I was taken half by surprise when it ended, when I noticed Elena, in a tailored navy dress and with her hair pulled back, amongst the other people in suits and dresses who'd been in the background during the speech. Her mouth was dark with lipstick and she was beaming, looking not just proud but actually joyful, and Reeve hugged her a bit longer than just plain civility demanded. I realized I was smiling, a bit mushily, and Rude was looking at me, his whole face quirked into that lopsided smile of his. I squeezed his hand. 

"We made it," he said, suppressed excitement in his voice. "He's _president._ Can you believe it?" 

I was smiling too much for my response, "What do you mean 'we'?" to sound like anything other than a joke, even if he'd wanted to misread me. I knew exactly what he meant. In some way all of us were in it together, Shinra and Avalanche and whatever Reeve had been, or the others like Bugenhagen, or Cid. No one else even really believed in a lot of the things we'd been dealing with. 

"You know what I mean," he said, happily, and reached across the cat to hug me. Elvis took offense, jumped off the couch, and I wrapped my arms around Rude, nestled my head against his shoulder. The TV was showing balloons and cheering people, and I felt quietly buoyant, as though I could float away myself, as though I'd just realized at that moment how happy I was. 


	13. Epilogue

Author's notes: I just want to take this opportunity to thank several of you. DJ Akane, for encouraging me to write it in the first place, providing ideas, and just generally being there. Sevarem, for prodding me to update around the middle when I started slacking off, and for giving me reason to believe that maybe I wasn't just preaching to the choir, or more accurately, writing for those who'll read anything with Tifa in it. All the dedicated reviewers, especially Aes Sedai, Tiy, naturesbungle (Cetra Singularity? Now I'm all disoriented), Death's Angel, Ann, Aislinn and Tifa H (another who spurred me to post again). I may have missed a few longtime readers, but I'm just going by reviews here.

Epilogue: December 23rd

"You think the earrings are cursed?" I asked, as I was brushing my hair.

"Lockhart, I picked them out before I ever got shot, and I got shot before you opened the box. There's no connection."

"Yeah, well, you want to find out you're wrong the hard way?"

"Don't borrow trouble, Lockhart," he said through a sweatshirt. "I promise I'm not going to get shot," he added, pulling it down the rest of the way.

"You know if you do I'll hold it against you," I said. "I dunno, they feel a little cursed."

"You got psychic powers?"

"Yep! Brand-new." As I pulled my hair back with barrettes, I saw him approaching out of the corner of my eye.

"You should wear 'em," he said from the doorjamb. "They look nice on you."

"Sweetie, you think everything looks nice on me."

"Not true. I thought that blue dress with the thing was bad."

"I loved that dress!" The 'thing' was a wrap that went over it - I never had known what they called them either. When I'd come down to the lobby of my building wearing it, he'd actually asked about other dresses I owned. It hadn't occurred to me until halfway through the evening what he meant by that. I still thought I looked good in it.

He shrugged. "Just pointing it out..."

"Yeah, well."

"Wear 'em. They look nice, and they were expensive."

"And cursed. You all wear bulletproof vests all the time now, right?"

"Yes, and I'm blessed with a tough skull. Wear the earrings."

I'd been intending to anyway - the anniversary did have me a bit anxious, but I wasn't that superstitious - so I put them in, sticking out my tongue at the mirror.

"Buy you a diamond ring, see if you think that's cursed."

I went quiet. "Nicholas. What?"

"Uh. Nothing." He looked a bit shifty as a I turned around.

"'Diamond ring'?" It wasn't like I was trying to trap him or anything. We both occasionally made reference to 'when we're married,' rather than 'if.'

"Can I take that back?"

"Why even bring it up?"

"Uh. Just slipped out."

"Well, if you're annoyed about the earrings, just say so." He shrugged again. I was starting to get annoyed. "Rude, why the hell are you acting like this?"

Another shrug. "...nervous," he said, finally.

I softened. "About... you know, last year?"

"...this year. I was, uh, planning... hell. I screwed it up."

"Screwed up what, honey?" I asked.

He sighed, then pushed off the doorjamb and headed into the kitchen. I trailed after, hoping there was an explanation to be pried out of him. I watched as he opened the refrigerator door, pulled out something that rustled, then after a moment, turned and held out a bouquet of roses. I took them, uncertainly.

"Is that why you wanted to go to my place? And why you insisted on buying burgers?" I asked, trying to ignore the excited, nervous happiness beginning to fizz inside me.

He canted his head in that half-nod of his. "I was supposed to do it right tomorrow night. I have a bottle of wine and Elena was going to call me and tell me how to cook. And I was going to buy a ring."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"Today." I guess I still looked doubtful. "Didn't say it was a _good_ plan," he added.

"It's a really sweet plan, though." I sniffed of the roses - the wrapper had absorbed a bit of that sour refrigerator smell. He never cleaned his out. The roses smelled faintly like they were supposed to. "Are you proposing to me?"

"Sort of. A little. Um." He got down on one knee, then didn't quite seem to know what to do with his hands, so I reached out and grabbed one. He held it in both of his, stared at our joined hands, then looked up for a moment at my face. Then back at our hands. He looked about like I felt - happy and kind of scared all at once. "I, uh, don't have the ring yet. Forgot the speech I was working on. But will you... will you marry me?"

It wasn't like it was a surprise. We'd been together more than a year, and this wasn't a shock, but I still couldn't speak, so I just dropped to my knees as well, beamed into his face and wrapped my arms around him, trying not to crush the flowers. My eyes felt kind of damp. He was holding me so tightly it almost hurt. I might have been doing the same to him.

"Didn't say yes," he said, muffled by my hair.

I laughed against his shoulder. "You are so... yes. You idiot. I love you."

"Call in sick. We'll pick out your ring."

"Yeah, I feel violently ill right now," I said.


End file.
